


Echoes

by simkhalou



Series: Someday [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simkhalou/pseuds/simkhalou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny had his reasons for waiving extradition. And those reasons didn't just disappear when Steve brought him back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Someday. I recommend reading that story first.
> 
> This story is set around the episodes 5.24 to 6.01 and includes spoilers and (sometimes altered) dialogue from those and previous episodes.
> 
> A note: I tried to research HLH and then make sense of Charlie's situation as it was portrayed on the show. But there is a big chance I got it all wrong, so please excuse any medical inaccuracies.
> 
>  **Warnings:** guilt; self-hatred; unhealthy coping mechanisms including self-punishment, rough sex and one instance of violent behavior; suicidal ideation comes up briefly; panic attacks; illness of a child/Charlie's disease (HLH) and its potentially fatal outcome are discussed.

 

“ _I’ve been living with what I did, feeling a certain way about it ever since I did it._

_And, maybe, some crazy part of me didn’t want to feel that way anymore.”_

  
  


— 6 months ago —

  
  


_The mattress dipped, a gust of air floated under the covers. Awareness crawled into Danny's senses as he started to drift awake._

_Warmth pulled away, disappeared, then rolled over him once again. Like an intangible wave of comfort._

_He kept his eyes closed when a large hand settle on his upturned shoulder. The soft touch of the tip of a nose ghosted over his cheek, followed by a brush of lips._

“ _Morning,” Steve voice rumbled somewhere close to his ear. Danny could feel his presence hovering above him, watching, waiting. Waiting for—_

“ _No.” Danny grunted and pressed his face deeper into the pillow, intent on going back to sleep while the possibility still seemed within reach._

“ _No?” Steve echoed, too loud, too obnoxious._

_Danny flopped a sleep-clumsy hand in his direction. “Go away,” he muttered. “'m sleeping.”_

_Steve's responding chuckle hummed and tickled in his ears._

_The mattress dipped again. Floor boards creaked under receding footsteps. A door closed quietly._

_Curling up on his side, Danny kept his eyes shut. Steve's warmth still clung to the sheets but the space in front of him felt cold and empty nonetheless._

_Silence settle over him, allowing the small sounds of the ocean to drift in through the opened window. Danny blew out a discontent huff, burrowing deeper under the covers. The stupid ocean was the reason why he couldn't have nice mornings in bed with Steve._

_Stupid, mean ocean._

_The toilet flushed, water splashed in the sink._

_Danny tried to shut it all out. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He was warm and comfortable and his bones felt too heavy to move just yet._

_The bathroom door opened again._

“ _You getting up?”_

_What a stupid, redundant question. Danny decided not to dignify it with an answer._

_Suddenly, the covers slipped away, exposing his bare shoulder and side. “Hey, hey!” Danny yelped, his eyes snapping open for the first time. He blinked against the bright sunlight and propped himself up on an elbow._

_Steve stood at the foot of the bed, already in his swimming trunks and very annoyingly awake._

_Danny squinted at him, pursed his lips. “I hate you,” he decided and flopped back down, dropping his head where Steve was supposed to lie._

“ _I'm heading out,” Steve said. “Think you can be done in the bathroom in half an hour?”_

_Danny dragged the covers over his head. “I'll be right here in a half hour, asleep,” he mumbled into the mattress. His cocoon smelled like Steve. Danny sighed because life wasn't fair._

“ _Are you feeling okay?” There was a distinct note of concern in Steve's voice now._

“ _No,” Danny lamented. “I'm not feeling okay. I'm feeling very, very tired because I had a very, very short night.” He paused, peeled back the covers a little to scowl at Steve, because it was his fault, and his fault alone, that they had been up until well past one last night. “And I have this very, very annoying boyfriend who's being very, very annoying and won't let me sleep,” he added._

_Steve frowned at him, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “The ship's coming in at nine,” he stated seriously._

_Danny rolled his eyes at him. It wasn't even seven. “Your point?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow again. “We got plenty of time, okay. You can go and do your thing in the water and I can sleep another hour and we'll still have enough time to get coffee and breakfast on the way.”_

“ _I don't want to be late,” Steve insisted stubbornly, his frown darkening._

“ _The terminal is literally five minutes from the Palace. We'll be there on time. There's no way we're not gonna be there on time, I promise you.”_

_Steve knew all this. He also knew that, even though the cruise ship was supposed to be anchored by nine, it would probably take Deb and her boyfriend an extra twenty or thirty minutes to actually get off the ship. So, if anything, they had time._

_Steve blew out a frustrated breath and then dropped down to sit at the foot of the bed, his back turned to Danny._

_Danny sighed. As much as Steve was looking forward to seeing Deb, he was still a ball of worry and nerves about the visit. He didn't like the idea of his sick aunt on a cruise ship so soon after the end of her last round of chemo therapy -- even though Deb had insisted that she was fine and well enough for the journey and had promised that she had the okay from her doctors when she had last spoken to Steve on the phone. That had been five days ago, because the cruise ship needed four full days at sea to make it from San Francisco to Oahu. Four full days for Steve to slowly go insane and to drag Danny down with him._

“ _She's gonna be fine, you know,” Danny said softly as he studied the tense line of Steve's bare shoulders._

“ _I know,” he said and ran a hand over his face. Then he briefly looked over his shoulder to Danny, muttering, “I'm sorry,” before he averted his gaze back to stare at the wall in front of him again._

_With another sigh, Danny pushed the covers off his body and crawled over to him. Kneeling behind Steve, Danny bumped his nose against his nape. “Go, play in the stupid ocean,” he told him, dropping a kiss to the base of his neck. “I promise I'll be showered and dressed by the time you get back.”_

_Steve chuckled and then turned a little to look at Danny again. “Just showered will be fine,” he said and pursed his lips. “The getting dressed part is optional. I've been recently informed that we have plenty of time.”_

“ _Nuh-uh.” Danny shook his head. “I know where this is going in your head and I can tell you right now that I don't want your saltwater dripping ass all over me.”_

_Steve turned to face Danny fully. “I'll rinse off outside,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “No saltwater, I promise.”_

“ _You're still gonna be wet,” Danny pointed out._

“ _Then don't dry off before I get here. We'll both be wet.”_

_Danny sighed. “All this talking is so unsexy,” he said, leaning forward. He nudged his nose against Steve's cheek, kissed the small, fading scar on his lower lip, licked along his stubbly jaw and then nibbled on his earlobe._

_Steve let out a quiet moan that sounded like pleasure and protest at the same time. He curled a hand around Danny's arm and, after a moment's hesitation, pushed him back._

_Scraping his teeth over soft skin, Danny let go._

“ _I gotta go,” Steve said, though he didn't sound like he really wanted to._

_Danny huffed unhappily when Steve stood and moved to the door without looking back again. “I can't promise you that I'll still be this naked when you get back,” Danny called after him._

“ _Just get in the shower, I'll be quick,” Steve yelled from the stairs._

_Danny flopped back on the bed. “Say hi to the fishies for me,” he grumbled at the ceiling._

  
  


— present —

  
  


The blearing alarm clock tore Danny abruptly from his sleep, waking him from blurry images of faceless children dancing inside his head. Not a nightmare, just a bad dream. A tiring nightly routine, all but ignored (but never forgotten) by the time he turned his head to bury his face in the pillow with a grunt. He waited, impatiently wishing Steve would to shut the damned alarm off already.

The third shrill beep got cut short, leaving a momentary complete silence in its wake. Danny didn't move.

He just lay there, listened as Steve took a sharp inhale and then pushed himself up to sit on his side of the bed.

Letting his head roll to the side, Danny opened his eyes and stared at the white wall panels. He waited, still didn't move when the mattress dipped and rocked him like a boat in the sea. He held his breath when Steve leaned in close and tenderly kissed the spot behind his ear.

Still, after all this time, Danny got his morning kiss every single day. Whether he wanted it or not.

Steve let out a resigned sigh, or maybe it was disappointment. Danny refused to examine the sound too closely. He was distracted anyway, by the way Steve was still hovering over him too closely. Danny could feel his eyes like a tangible weight on his body, prickling on his skin like sharp needles. He could tell there was a concerned crease between Steve's brows.

He swallowed thickly, made himself breathe, slow and steady, in and out, before he rolled onto his back. His side bumped into Steve's arm. Stretching a little, Danny force a smile when his eyes met Steve's. “Hey,” he said, infusing false lightness into the sound of his voice.

Steve licked his lips, his mouth twitched. “Hey,” he echoed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny could see Steve moving his hand toward him. He just lay there, bracing himself for the soft touch by biting the inside of his left cheek.

“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice still scratchy and hoarse with sleep. He gently smoothed warm fingers over Danny's forehead, brushing stray hairs away and then palmed the side of his face.

Feeling a familiar, heavy weight press down on his chest, squeeze his lungs, Danny shut his eyes, shutting out Steve, his caressing touch and the way he was looking at him.

“'m fine,” he muttered and then pulled away, too quickly, sitting up and swinging his legs out on his side of the bed.

Behind him, Steve huffed out a breath in obvious frustration. “Are you still mad?” he asked, uncertain, defensive and indignant, all at the same time.

Danny sighed, staring down at his feet. “I'm not still mad,” he said truthfully. “It was a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, it was,” Steve agreed. “Still is.”

“Yeah.”

Chin had shown up after midnight last night, banging loudly against the front door and startling Danny wide awake just as he was about to drift off to sleep.

Once Steve had let him in and they were gathered around the dining room table, Chin had started blabbering something about Gabriel and photos, Goro Shioma and the Yakuza, Adam and Kono. Danny's sleep-addled brain had had a hard time catching up.

When he had eventually put the pieces together and figured out what was going on (or rather what had been going on for over a week), Danny's first instinct had been to tell Kono about the photos, so that she could confront Adam about the situation. There was probably a very good and simple explanation for why her fiancé was meeting with the oyabun of a major Yakuza syndicate.

Yeah, right.

But whatever this was, Danny knew one thing with absolute certainty: nothing good ever came from keeping these kinds of things from the person who deserved to know about them the most. And he figured that Steve, of all people, would feel the same way about the situation. Because Steve knew how bad it could hurt to be kept in the dark.

But it had been Steve who had insisted that they gather more intel on Goro Shioma first.

Danny didn't know what had pissed him off more, that he'd been outvoted on the issue by Steve and Chin, or that Steve had known about the damned photos for over a week and had not said a single word to him.

They were not supposed to keep secrets from each other. They had discussed this after Chin had left, loudly and angrily. Steve had argued that he hadn't said anything because they hadn't even known who the man in the photos with Adam was until tonight. Aside from that, he hadn't wanted to put Danny in the situation he was in now — having to keep a secret from Kono.

Both were bullshit reasons not to say anything. It didn't even matter what the particular issue was. The thing that Steve apparently didn't manage to get through his thick skull was that he needed to stop thinking of them as two separate people when crap like this came up. He needed to stop wanting to protect Danny from these situations. They were easier handled together, even if they ended up not seeing eye to eye on something.

Shouting and yelling had achieved nothing, aside from making Danny realize all over again just how stubborn Steve could be when it came to protecting the people he loved. So they had made an effort to calm down and had talked, reasonable, quiet. Danny had acknowledged Steve's well-meaning intentions, Steve had promised not to keep things from Danny anymore, even if he thought it was for the best.

By the time they had made it back to bed, it had been well past midnight. And even though their brief fight had been resolved, frustration had still prickled under Danny skin like trapped electricity, promising a sleepless night unless dealt with. So he had dealt with it, had initiated sex, had made sure that the frustration was gone after.

He should have expected the emptiness he had felt then, lying there next to Steve in the darkness, sweaty and exhausted. Because these days, that emptiness was always waiting for him after they had sex, when his body's needs were satisfied and he allowed himself to feel again.

“Danny?” Steve asked. His voice sounded far away as it pulled Danny back into the moment.

He blinked his eyes, turned a little to look over his shoulder and found Steve still sitting on the other side of the bed, not far away at all. Maybe even too close.

Danny let the thought go even before it had formed itself fully inside his head. He couldn't think about this right now.

With a shake of his head, he tried to remember their conversation about Kono and Adam, remembered disagreeing with Steve and Chin and remembered having his opinion outvoted, dismissed.

“We can't let her get married with this hanging over their heads,” he said.

Steve frowned. “Chin's not gonna let that happen.”

“ _I'm_ not gonna let that happen.”

Steve huffed out an irritated sigh. “Good,” he bit back. “That makes three of us.”

Clearly frustrated, he turned away from Danny. “I know you hate this,” he said. “I hate it, too. But let's not forget who sent Chin those photos. What if this is just Gabriel playing with us, trying to cause trouble, create chaos?”

Yeah. That was definitely a possibility. Gabriel could be unpredictable and no one really knew what he was up to, what his endgame was.

“I don't want to ruin their wedding over nothing,” Steve added.

“Me either,” Danny said, even though he was pretty sure that whatever was going on was not nothing. The photos hadn't been manipulated and were recent. Something was going on with Adam. But, yeah, maybe for a day or two, Danny could get behind Steve's plan to find out what the connection between Adam and Goro Shioma was without talking to Kono about it.

With a resigning sigh, he pushed himself off the bed. “Mind if I take the first shower?”

Danny was already at the bathroom door when Steve answered. “Go ahead, I'm heading outside for a few minutes.”

Nodding mutely, Danny flipped the light switch and closed the door behind him.

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


When Danny came back into the bedroom after his shower with just a towel around his waist, Steve still wasn't back. He frowned at the empty room as he walked over to the dresser to get some fresh clothes. There was a pair of swim trunks missing, so Danny figured he had a little while longer before Steve was going to be back.

He pulled on his boxers and his shirt, scowling at the wrinkles that stuffing his clothes into Steve's small wall closet had caused. He was on the last button when his phone dinged with a text message. He went over to pick it up from the bedside table.

_Call me asap. Need to talk._

That was so… _Rachel_. It could mean anything but Danny's mind went straight to Grace. Because these days, she was basically the only reason he and Rachel communicated with each other. But the _need to talk_ part confused him. _Asap_ sounded urgent. Grace wasn't prone to getting into trouble, especially not at seven in the morning. Was she sick?

With a sigh and an uneasy feeling in his gut, Danny sat down on the bed and dialed Rachel's number. She picked up on the first ring.

“Rachel, what's up? Is Grace okay?” he asked, foregoing any form of greeting.

“ _Grace? No. No, Danny, she's fine.”_

“Okay,” Danny said and blew out a breath, relieved. “Okay. So if Grace is fine then— then what is it? What's going on?”

Rachel hesitated. _“I— I need to talk to you.”_

“We're talking, Rachel. We're talking right now. What do you want? What is this about?”

“ _I can't do this over the phone, Danny.”_

Danny rolled his eyes. “Do what? Rachel, please. Would you please just tell me what's going on.”

She sighed. _“Can you meet me later?”_

“Rachel—“

“ _I'll be at the Koko Head playground around noon.”_

Running a hand through his still damp hair, Danny shook his head.

“ _Please, Danny. It's important.”_

He hated this, hated that she still could do this to him, that he had no choice but to let her. “Fine,” he said. “I'll try to be there.”

“ _Thank you.”_ She paused, then added, _“It's really important.”_

“Yeah, okay,” Danny muttered as the door opened and a wet Steve came in, with dripping shorts and a towel slug around his neck.

“I'll see you later,” Danny told Rachel and then ended the call without waiting for a response from her.

“That didn't sound like work,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“No,” Danny confirmed, glancing down at the phone in his hands. “That was Rachel.”

“Grace okay?”

Of course Steve's mind went there first, too.

“She's fine,” Danny assured quickly. “Rachel— She says she needs to see me but wouldn't say why.” He paused and ran through the conversation in his head again, wondering if she'd said something that could give him at least a hint to figure out what all this was about. “She sounded… off, upset,” he decided.

“Upset?” Steve asked, moving over to the still open bathroom door. “Did you do something wrong?”

Danny contemplated the question as he watched Steve pull off his wet shorts and throw them into the shower. He couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong… and she hadn't sounded angry-upset, more distraught-upset. Like she was the one who'd done something wrong. But why? If this wasn't about Grace then it technically didn't concern Danny. And he certainly didn't want whatever this was to become his business either. Maybe it was about Stan. Maybe he or Rachel were in some kind of trouble with the law or needed—

“Are you thinking about your ex-wife while staring at my naked ass?”

Danny blinked his eyes. Steve had turned to face him and he was getting an eyeful of more than just his ass now.

“I was doing that staring without seeing thing,” Danny admitted with a grimace.

Steve hummed an offended acknowledgement and started scrubbing his hair dry with his towel. Danny seized the opportunity and then let his eyes roam over Steve's naked body, definitely doing the staring _with_ seeing thing this time, drinking in every inch of familiar, damp skin, feeling a pang of longing for reasons he couldn't define.

His gaze stuttered as it caught a barely visible, purpling bruise high on the inside of Steve's thigh. Danny remembered sucking the spot last night, hard and unrelenting. He tried to dismiss the memory with a quick shake of his head but then his visual exploration stumbled to a halt when he came across a faint bruise on Steve's hip, where Danny had held him, firm and too tight as he had rid himself of his sizzling frustration.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. And Danny always wanted to apologize the next day, wanted to erase the small marks he sometimes left on Steve's skin. He didn't even know why he did it. He didn't feel the need to mark Steve as his, never felt good about seeing the bruises on him in the morning's sunlight. They reminded him too much of bruises other people had put on him, in different circumstances and with vile intentions. But lately, it just seemed to happen from time to time. Frequently, if Danny was being honest.

If he was being honest, he would maybe have to admit that this was just a symptom of something bigger, something more fundamental. If Danny was being honest, he would have to admit that their physical intimacy now seemed to lack its emotional counterpart, that they were not as close as they used to be, that he sometimes held on too tight to keep it that way.

But Steve never mentioned anything and Danny refused to acknowledge this, refused to examine why, refused to be honest.

His thoughts were interrupted when Steve wrapped the towel around his waist, thankfully hiding the small marks from the world again.

Danny looked up to him, an apology on his lips but no words came out.

“So, are you going to see her?” Steve asked.

Rachel, Danny remembered.

With a sigh, he averted his gaze back to the phone in his hands. “What choice do I have?”

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Danny stared at the kid running around the playground. He knew that kid. He had seen doctors bring him into the world, had caught glimpses of him growing up over the past three years, had heard stories from Grace.

The kid's name was Charlie.

That kid was his son.

His son, Charlie.

His sick son, Charlie, who could _die_.

“Danny?” Rachel asked softly next to him.

He didn't look sick. Danny watched the boy climb up the ladder to the slide, tried to find something about him that looked unhealthy, something that set him apart from all the other kids in the playground. But he couldn't find anything. There was nothing wrong with him. Charlie looked perfectly fine. Happy.

 _HLH._ What the fuck did that even stand for? What were the symptoms? How could it kill him?

Charlie.

Was he in pain? Was he suffering?

Danny had no answers. All he had were questions, because Rachel had decided that his job was too dangerous for him to raise another child.

“Tell me more about this disease,” he said, not able to tear his eyes away from the blond kid. “What does it do to him?”

“It's complicated,” Rachel said, vague, evasive.

Danny turned abruptly to face her, sharp, vicious anger suddenly boiling hotly inside his chest, prominent among the plethora of competing emotions. “I just want to know how my son is doing,” he hissed at her.

Rachel flinched. She bit her bottom lip and let her gaze drift over to Charlie. “He's doing okay at the moment,” she said, then paused to sniff her nose and wipe her fingers over tear-streaked cheeks again. Unbidden, Danny felt a pang of sympathy for her. Not for Rachel, the woman who'd lied to him all this time, who'd robbed him of all those years with his son. But for the scared mother with the sick kid. He was beginning to understand what she was going through.

“We're incredibly lucky, actually,” Rachel continued. “Charlie has what's called Primary HLH. It's caused by a genetic mutation. Usually, children are affected within the first year but Charlie's been fine so far. There was recently a case of HLH in my family. That's why we had Charlie and Grace tested in the first place.”

Just as Danny opened his mouth to ask about Grace, Rachel turned to face him and added, “Grace is fine, she's not even a carrier of the genetic defect.”

Danny felt relief, briefly, because his kid was fine. Only to realize that his kid wasn't fine at all. Because Charlie was his kid, too. His son.

It was strange, feeling relieved and heartbroken at the same time and Danny wondered if this was what having two kids felt like? Schizophrenic. Grace had always been his whole world. And now, just like that, Rachel had split it in two. Three years too late.

He swallowed thickly, shook his head to clear it. Focus. He had two kids now. One was sick and one was fine. He tried to remember what Rachel had told him.

“Charlie, he has the mutation?” he asked.

Rachel nodded. “The doctors don't know why the disease hasn't affected him yet. It can— will still happen some day, so he's being monitored closely.”

“And the bone marrow transplant…” Danny didn't manage to finish the question. Treatment was the word Rachel had used. Treatable didn't mean curable; and there was a significant difference between the two that, maybe, she wasn't aware of.

“It can cure him,” she said.

It was as if she had read his mind. Maybe because she knew him so well, maybe because she had only recently been through the same process of finding out herself. Danny didn't care why, all he cared about was knowing that his son was going to be all right.

“It's very likely that, after the procedure, he'll be able to live a normal life.”

A normal life. That sounded too good to be true. A normal life that he could be a part of. Be a father to Charlie, his son.

That, he would not let Rachel take away from him.

“A life that I'm going to be in, right?” he asked, not hiding the challenge in his words as he prepared and geared up to fight her on this, no matter how long it would take, what he would have to do, or how much money it would cost. Years of fighting and negotiating over Grace had made him suspicious, had made him lose a certainty, a security, not of his role as her father, but whether or not he was going to be allowed to fulfill that role. Something a lot of parents probably took for granted, that he had taken for granted until the day Rachel had told him she was going to move their daughter to an island in the middle of the Pacific. He couldn't help but refuse to believe Rachel was going to make it any easier for him this time and he refused to get lulled into a false sense of security.

“If that is what you want,” Rachel said.

With Rachel, it was never about what Danny wanted.

If, she had said. Like it was a question, like there was any doubt about what Danny would want.

“It is,” he answered firmly.

Turning away from her, he looked out to the playground in front of them, watched Charlie go down the slide for what had to be the tenth time, wondering what his first time on a slide had been like and what other first times he had missed so far… how many firsts were left for him to witness.

“We can't just tell him that you're his father. He won't understand.”

Danny nodded slowly. “I know,” he said, letting his contempt for what Rachel had done seep into the tone of his voice again. He turned to look at her. “I want to get to know him. And I want him to know me.”

Three years. He didn't want to miss another day.

But this was not about what he wanted. It was about what was best for the kid. For his son, Charlie.

Rachel nodded. “We'll have to tell Grace,” she then said. “And you will have to tell Steve.”

 _Steve_.

Danny hadn't even thought about him in all this yet.

Steve loved Grace like she was his own daughter. But could he love Charlie the same way?

How would Charlie feel about him, about yet another stranger in his life?

Would Steve even want to be in Charlie's life? Take care of another kid that wasn't his own?

“I gotta— I gotta talk to him,” Danny said absently as one question after the next popped into his head. He stood, fishing for his phone in his pants pocket while his eyes searched for Charlie on the playground.

“What, right now?” Rachel asked.

Danny looked down to her, fixed her with a cold stare. “Steve and I don't keep secrets from each other.”

It felt good, saying that to her. Seeing her avert her gaze shamefully to the ground in reaction.

And Rachel didn't need to know that he and Steve had only fought last night because Steve had kept something from him.

“They'll need to do the blood test as soon as possible,” Rachel said after a beat, looking back up at Danny, defiant, recovered from his attack. “This can't wait.”

“Just tell me when and where, I'll be there.”

She sighed. “I'll text you the details.”

Danny nodded. Then he looked for Charlie. He was just about to go down the slide again. Without another glance at Rachel, Danny went over to say goodbye to his son. Part of him wanted to just grab him and take him home.

“Hey, buddy,” he said as the kid climbed off the bottom of the slide and crouched down to be on eye level with him. “It was nice seeing you today,” he said.

Charlie scrunched up his little nose at that and simply nodded, smiling shyly.

Danny couldn't help but smile broadly back at him. “Maybe we can see each other again sometime soon, huh? Hang out, play something together?”

Charlie bit his lip at the question, his gaze shifted over to where Rachel was still sitting on the bench. “Can mommy play with us?” he asked.

“Of course, she can,” Danny assured him, knowing this was just the first of many compromises he would have to make from here on out. “We'll all do something fun together.”

Charlie nodded excitedly at that.

“All right, I gotta go now,” he said and stood.

Unable to move, unable to tear his eyes from his son, Danny looked down at him for a long moment. Frowning, Charlie looked back up at him and all Danny wanted to do right then was to pick him up, hug him tight. Or simply run his hand over his head, drop a kiss on top of it, like he did with Grace all the time. It was strange how quickly, how lightning fast and unconditionally he had fallen in love with this little boy. This little guy who had his nose after all. Charlie, who he knew nothing about. All he knew was that he was sick. He didn't know what he liked to eat for breakfast, what his favorite toy was, if he was afraid of the dark. There were thousands of things Danny would have to learn about him and he didn't want to wait a minute to find out, didn't want to waste another single second.

But what he wanted was only one part of the equation. Charlie was three years old. He didn't understand that his mom had had an affair (or whatever their short-lived reunion had been) with Danny. That she had gotten pregnant from him and had then decided that Charlie was better off with Stan as his dad. That she had lied to everyone for three years.

They had to do this right. Maybe talk to a professional for advice and help. Whatever was necessary.

The one thing Danny didn't want to do was mess this up.

So he simply stuck out his fist to the kid again. Without hesitation, Charlie bumped his small one against it.

Danny smiled at him. “Bye, Charlie. I'll see you soon,” he promised, pretending his voice didn't crack the smallest bit as he said his son's name.

“Bye, Danno,” Charlie answered. Unaware of the tears stinging in his father's eyes, he darted off, started climbing up the latter to the slide once again.

Danny walked back to his car without another glance in Rachel's direction.

Minutes later, he sat behind the steering wheel with his phone in his hands, wondering what to say to Steve. He realized that there was one thing Rachel had been right about. He, too, needed to do this in person. So he sent a text message.

_Need to talk. My spot, whenever you can get there._

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Danny hadn't been here in a while. A long while, actually. His small sanctuary off the highway, overlooking the ocean. He hadn't come here since he had lost his brother, hadn't really needed this place since then. Or maybe it just reminded him too much of Matt now, was linked to his death in a way. He had cried here for his brother.

Charlie was sick but he wasn't dead. He had a chance to be okay… And yet, it felt right to be here right now, to mourn the time with his son Danny had lost. The time Rachel had taken from them.

Gravel crunched when a car pulled up next to the Camaro. Danny didn't turn around, just listened as the engine was shut off, a door opened and fell shut again. Familiar footsteps.

Steve hesitated for a moment. Danny could feel him standing there, watching him, before he eventually sat down with his back to the water. They always sat here like this. Facing away from each other. Right now, it was unsettling and reassuring at the same time.

“Thanks for coming,” Danny said and shot a quick glance over to Steve.

Steve did the same. Their eyes met.

Danny almost immediately averted his gaze back to the sparkling water.

Steve sighed.

“What's going on, Danny?” he asked after a beat. Danny thought he sounded tired, maybe a little apprehensive even. He wondered what was going through Steve's head and realized suddenly that Steve had no idea, no clue what this was about. His mind was probably going to all kinds of scary places.

What could be scarier than having a kid with a deadly genetic disease?

“It's Charlie,” Danny said. And Steve probably knew right then. Danny probably didn't even have to say it. Like Rachel hadn't needed to actually say it out loud. But Danny wanted to do this right; didn't want to be like her. A coward. A liar.

“He's my son,” he added.

Steve didn't react immediately.

Danny couldn't stand the silence, suddenly felt the urgent need to fill it with an explanation. “That's why Rachel wanted to see me,” he said. “He's sick; Charlie's sick. He has some kind of rare genetic disease and he— he needs a bone marrow transplant and I— I may be a better match for him than Rachel, because— because I'm his father. I'm his father. I didn't know, but I'm his father.”

“Slow down, Danny,” Steve hushed.

Danny took in a breath, slowly let it go. “I didn't know,” he repeated, because that part was important.

“Are— are you sure about this?” Steve asked, confusion and suspicion evident in his voice. “I mean—“

“I'm sure,” Danny cut him off. “Rachel, she— she's always known. She's kept this from me all this time. She's only told me now because— because he could die. If he doesn't get this transplant, Charlie could die. That's the only reason why I know.”

Steve was quiet. Danny didn't know what to make of his silence. He felt like Steve should say something, anything really. He should be mad, furious. Right? On Danny's behalf at least, he should be outraged at what Rachel had done.

Maybe he didn't get it. Maybe he didn't understand that Danny's had a son all this time and Rachel had known and deliberately kept the truth from him, from everyone. Every day, she had decided not to say anything. Every single day, she had lied by omission.

“Do you know how many times that I have dropped Grace off— Do you know how many times that I've picked her up and that kid's been sitting in the room? Rachel, too. Sitting there.”

“Danny,” Steve interjected; calm, controlled -- infuriating. “No matter how misguided this was—“

“Please, don't. Do not say anything that sticks up for this woman, okay?” Danny warned. He didn't want reasonable. Not now, not from Steve. He wanted, _needed_ him to be angry at Rachel with him. Danny needed Steve to be pissed at her and the situation and the whole world, because the anger boiling in his own gut didn't seem enough, didn't seem to do the level of betrayal justice. Not by a long shot.

“What she did is unforgivable and that is the bottom line. And because of what she did, I missed out three years of this kid's life. Huh? What about that?”

Danny stared challenging at Steve. Steve, who still just sat there with that goddamn unreadable expression on his face. Still calm, still quiet.

Danny turned back to face the ocean. Because there was something there in that expression on Steve's face that… hurt, in a strange, unexpected and indefinable way. Danny somehow couldn't bear to look at him.

“So what happens now?” Steve asked after a beat.

“Now. Now I take care of the kid.” Danny answered without hesitation, without thinking. There was no alternative, no plan B. No consideration for what Steve might want.

It wasn't fair. But then, nothing about all this was fair to anyone.

“About Rachel, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't know where I get past this,” Danny added, a fresh wave of anger rolling through him.

“You're right,” Steve said.

Quiet, calm, understanding. Steady. Like a rock. Breaking waves of anger.

“I know I'm right. Thank you,” Danny bit back, hating how short his words came out but still unable to let go of the raging fire in his gut, unable to calm down. Not even in the face of Steve's quiet, soothing strength.

“Do me a favor, listen to me for a second, all right?” Steve said. “These feelings that you're having, this anger, you gotta put it aside, that's all I'm saying. How many decisions you guys are gonna have to make from here on in— And you and Rachel, you gotta make the decisions together. Danny, it's not gonna do Charlie any good having his parents fighting. That's all I'm trying to say.”

“I know that, you're right,” Danny muttered. Of course, Steve was right. Danny knew he had to put Charlie first, focus on him, do what was best for the kid.

But how could he?

Right now, right here, Rachel's lies and betrayal stung too sharply. The pain was too acute, too fresh to just… get over it. Rage ran too hotly in his veins to ignore the burn.

And wasn't that the whole point of this place? Wasn't Danny allowed, here, to feel whatever he needed to feel? Just for a moment? Couldn't he just be angry for a little while? Hate Rachel and what she'd done?

He needed this. Do this here so he wouldn't in front of Rachel or the kid. Or at home.

Why didn't Steve get that? Why did he still not understand that putting your feelings aside all the time wasn't the solution to anything?

The shrill ringing of Steve's phone suddenly cut sharply through Danny's spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah, Chin, what's up?” Steve asked into the phone.

Of course. Perfect timing.

Danny inhaled a deep breath, tried to reel in his emotions, the chaos inside his head. His moment was over now, anyway. Time to focus on the case, on the cop from New York who had killed a young women not much older than his own daughter.

  
  


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“Andrew Pelham, let me see your hands, right now!”

The man ran. Of course, he ran. He sprinted across the parking lot with a gun held firmly in his hand. He hadn't fired it yet but instinct told Danny that was about to change. He and Steve were gaining ground on Pelham and the man was headed for a dead end.

Dead ends and desperation didn't mix well in people like Pelham.

He suddenly slowed, spun around, gun arm outstretched. Danny dove for cover behind a car, saw Steve thankfully do the same. He lost sight of Pelham then, crouching down low with his back pressed against the car. Three shots were fired wildly, inaccurately. One pinged off the metal too close to Steve's head.

After the volley of shots ended, Steve turned and rose up cautiously. Danny did the same. They needed to reestablish visual contact.

Pelham fired again before Danny even saw him. The shots were absurdly accurate this time -- given the distance and the fact that he was still running in the opposite direction.

A bullet slammed into the shiny blue surface inches from Danny's head. He turned away instinctively, shielding himself from a possible ricochet, part of his brain preparing for an impact, for pain to hit his senses.

But it wasn't a bullet that hit him right then. It was a realization, painful and blinding in its clarity.

Rachel had been right.

Because here he was, taking chances. And right now, he wasn't just taking chances with his own life. He was taking chances with Charlie's, too. Because, maybe, Charlie needed his bone marrow to survive.

Maybe Charlie needed him to live.

Danny barely even saw Steve taking off after Pelham. But he was suddenly just gone and Danny could feel him move away, could feel the distance between them growing with every pounding heartbeat inside his chest. He pushed himself to his feet instinctively, took a few dazed, stumbling steps to follow.

But then he stopped. And all he could do was just stand there, frozen and terrified.

He needed to go after Steve. But at the same time, he couldn't take another step, couldn't follow him, couldn't be his back-up.

Because his son needed him to be his back-up, too. And Danny couldn't do both. Couldn't do either. He couldn't go after Steve, take the chance that the next stray bullet fired from Pelham's gun killed him, killed Charlie's chances of a cure. _Killed Charlie_. But at the same time, he couldn't stay here, couldn't let Steve run into a wild hail of bullets without back-up, couldn't let _him_ get killed.

How was he supposed to decide, right here, in this second, who was more important to him -- the man he loved or the son he barely even knew?

Danny breathed, hard and fast and insufficient. His heart was beating furiously inside his chest. His hands felt numb and his head empty as he searched for the answer, the solution, the right thing to do.

Maybe Steve would be fine on his own. He was a big guy, Navy SEAL. He could take care of himself.

Maybe Rachel was the better match to give bone marrow to Charlie after all.

Maybe it didn't matter what Danny did.

A gunshot rang out in the distance. A faint, small, quiet sound. Danny started violently.

Maybe Steve was already dead.

Or maybe he lay bleeding on the pavement. Alone, cold, dying. Wondering why Danny wasn't there with him. Why Danny hadn't taken the first shot instead, why Danny hadn't saved him.

“ _Danny?”_ Steve's voice echoed inside his head over the com-link in his ear. Breathless, because life was bleeding from the gunshot wound in his body with every fading beat of his heart.

Danny opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. He had let Steve get shot, was letting him die alone in the street. _I'm sorry_ seemed ridiculously insufficient.

“ _Danny!”_

Steve's voice sounded so close, so loud and urgent. Stronger. Shouldn't it grow weaker as he died?

“ _Danny, you okay? Talk to me!”_

It didn't make any sense.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, curled his hand tightly around the handle of his gun. Something… something was not right, not connecting inside his head. There was this thing, this nothingness that scattered his thoughts in too many different directions, this blinding thick, white fog.

“Steve?”

It came out as a whisper, a breath.

“ _Danny, are you all right?”_ Steve was breathing hard inside Danny's ear now. Not dying, he realized.

Running.

“ _Where are you?”_

Danny wanted to feel relieved. But Steve sounded so scared. Because he had turned around and Danny hadn't been on his six.

_Shit._

What the hell was he even doing? Standing here, freaking out over what-ifs and hypothetic scenarios.

“I'm— I'm still in the parking lot,” he answered belatedly.

It must have come out quiet and unsteady, weak. _“Are you hit?”_ Steve asked, frantic with worry.

“I'm fine.” Danny swallowed thickly, not sure what to tell Steve. How to explain why he hadn't followed him. “I'm fine,” he said again.

He heard the nearing footfalls then. Heavy boots pounding on pavement.

And then there he was, rounding the corner of the parking lot, a hand on the gun in the holster on his hip. Panting, breathing hard, Steve slowed, stopped when he saw Danny standing there and Danny watched him close his eyes briefly, saw him release a relieved breath. The hand Steve ran over his sweat-dotted face was shaking before he clenched it to a tight fist.

With a quick jerk of his head, he fixed Danny with a stormy gaze. He breathed out again, his shoulders sagging a little as tension left his body, as another wave of relief washing over him.

Danny wanted to apologize.

“What the hell?” Steve suddenly asked. He had started moving again, was walking over to Danny now, closing the distance between them with purposeful, determined steps.

Danny didn't know wether he should rush to meet him or back away. He stared, open-mouthed, as Steve came closer, licked his lips nervously, not sure what to do, what to think. What to make of his own reaction.

And then Steve stood right in front of him.

One of his hands curled over Danny's shoulder, squeezed gently.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve asked.

Danny couldn't meet his eyes. He stared at name tag on the front of Steve's vest. “I'm fine,” he said again. It came out too quiet to be convincing.

“Danny—“

“I— I don't—” Danny stuttered out, not sure what say, how to explain or apologize.

“Hey.” Steve's grip moved to the juncture between shoulder and neck, tightened there briefly. Danny felt the rough material of worn gloves brush against his skin above the shirt collar. “Hey,” Steve said again, more insistent this time. He ducked his head to get into Danny's unfocussed line of sight. “What's going on?”

Danny blinked, then looked up into Steve's questioning, concerned eyes. He let out a trembling breath, shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “I guess getting shot at when your kid needs your bone marrow just doesn't feel the same,” he said weakly.

Steve's eyes, his whole expression softened at that. Concern shifted to understanding and Danny wondered how he could understand. Because Danny wasn't sure he understood any of this himself.

The hand on Danny's shoulder squeezed again, the thumb rubbed gently back and forth along his neck.

And then, with another light squeeze, the touch disappeared.

“Malloy's got Pelham,” Steve said.

Danny felt suddenly off-balance. Because just like that, they were back to the case. Whatever the hell had just happened got pushed aside, to be dealt with later or not at all.

A surge of anger hit Danny. And it wasn't fair, because they were looking for a murderer. What was Steve supposed to do?

Pelham was still out there, even if a bounty hunter had him in his custody. The guy had tortured and killed three young women and the fact that he had been living on this island for years, on the same goddamn rock Grace was growing up on, made Danny sick to his stomach. He couldn't blame Steve for focussing on getting the bastard.

But the anger was still there. And maybe it had been there this whole time. Maybe it was still directed at Rachel and not at Steve at all. Or maybe it was directed at himself, because it was Danny who let this thing with Charlie affect his ability to do his job right… but then again it was Steve who seemed to just dismiss that fact, who didn't care that he just went after a dangerous criminal without backup when he wasn't supposed to do stupid crap like that, when he could have died… bleeding out on the pavement somewhere far away.

Maybe it was a combination of all these things.

Whatever it was, whatever was going on, it all left Danny still feeling breathless and hot and suffocating. He tried to suck in a calming breath but his lungs refused to expand completely. Deciding to blame it on the vest, Danny started yanking hard at the velcro straps and turned away from Steve. Sirens blared in the distance and Danny didn't get what the hell had taken them so long. He pulled the vest over his head and headed off towards the car.

“Did you hear what I said?” Steve called after him.

“Yeah, I did,” Danny muttered in response, not bothering to turn around.

  
  


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Danny would have laughed if it wasn't for the burning ache deep inside his chest.

Just a couple of minutes ago, they had been trying to track down Andrew Pelham, a cop and murderer of three young women. They had found Richie Malloy, the bounty hunter who had captured Pelham, and confronted him. And what he had just told them had sent Danny's head spinning — Malloy had sold Pelham to Malcolm Letty, the father of one of the victims, destroyed by grief, hellbent on revenge.

The whole thing hit just a little too close to home for Danny.

He knew how Letty felt. Even though for him, that feeling had lasted only a few short minutes. It had been moments between finding out his brother was dead and putting a bullet in Reyes' head. Letty, he had been living with this for the last two years.

“Sir, please listen to me. I know why you came here, I know what you came here to do and I’m begging you not to go through with this.“

Steve had Letty on the phone, was trying to talk him out of whatever agonizing death he had planned for Pelham. Stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. And part of Danny thought that it should be him on the phone instead of Steve. Because Steve didn't get this. He had a pretty good idea. From when Hesse had killed his father, from his many confrontations with Wo Fat.

But Steve didn't understand. He processed differently… maybe simply didn't have it in him, that darkness. The ability to kill someone in cold blood.

Maybe Letty didn't either.

Danny gave his head a quick shake, refusing to dwell on those thoughts right now. Instead he focussed on Steve again, on what he was saying to Letty.

“It’s not gonna accomplish anything, sir. It won’t—“

Oh, killing Pelham would accomplish plenty. Just nothing good.

Danny stood close to Lou as he watched Steve. He had his back turned to them, was tense but not stiff; focussed. He wanted to get through to Letty but Steve wasn't good at this. He was too detached, his voice too flat, sounding as if he was reading off a script. Maybe he had one in his head. He was too formal, too. Kept addressing the guy as sir. There was no need for any of that. It didn't get much more intimate than trying to talk someone out of murdering their daughter's killer.

Danny really thought he should be the one doing this.

But he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't be able to get out a single word.

“Sir, please. I understand wanting vengeance. I swear to you, I do. But killing Pelham, it’ll feel good for a moment but that’s it. Now, we got enough evidence to put this bastard away. I want him in a prison cell, sir. Not you.”

The words twisted a knife inside Danny's chest. Quick, sharp. Familiar. Because people who killed for revenge belonged in a prison cell. It wasn't even a question. Steve said it like it was some indisputable, absolute truth.

And yet, Danny was still here.

“Think about Jenny. Would she really want this? You’re not a killer.”

There was an edge of desperation to Steve's voice now. He was running out of reasons for Letty not to do this but unwilling to give up.

“ _Guys, we got him,”_ Kono's voice suddenly came over the com-link in Danny's ear.

“ _He's in Waimonala,”_ Chin added.

Lou honked the horn of his car to let Steve know they were ready to roll. Danny headed for the passenger side door of the Camaro, glad this futile part of the process was over.

But when he slammed the door shut and buckled his seatbelt, he realized that Steve was still standing there, still talking on the phone, still trying. Danny wondered if maybe this was Steve trying to make up for not stopping him from killing Reyes. There was guilt there, too, and Danny wished Steve actually had a chance of getting through to Letty. But the man had lost his daughter…

Danny closed his eyes for a brief moment, tried to clear it all from his head, tried to not think about the hypocrisy of him driving to Letty's hideout and arresting the man. Because what else was he supposed to do? Let Steve go out in the field without backing him up yet again? Lou was with them, but still. Danny felt like he owed this to Steve after what happened earlier… but he still had to consider Charlie.

What was he supposed to do?

  
  


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No one had died today.

Danny only realized this when he stood outside the house where Letty had brought Pelham, as he watched both men being readied for transport to the hospital.

He felt strangely relieved. Malcolm Letty wouldn't have to live with the guilt that came with killing someone in cold blood, being a murderer. Danny didn't wish that on anyone; that diffuse feeling somewhere between pain and sadness and anger and self-loathing. But especially not on Letty. The man had already been through hell. Danny couldn't and didn't want to imagine what it would feel like to lose Grace that way. Tortured and killed by a cop.

Rick Peterson's face flashed through his mind then, made him realize that he didn't have to imagine anything at all, reminded him of how close he actually had come to losing her in exactly the same way. The memories of that day made his stomach roll with nausea, had him almost gaging in disgust and fear.

Grace was fine, he told himself, barely noticing Steve walking by him. Danny only fully realized he was standing right next to him when Steve started talking.

“I'm gonna call Ellie” he said.

Pulled back into the present, Danny turned his head to look at him. Steve was watching as Letty was loaded into one of the ambulances.

“I mean, there's gotta be some kind of deal we can make,” he added, “help reduce Malcolm's charges.”

Danny just nodded. Part of him wanted to laugh at the hubris, the arrogance of that statement. It came from a good place. Steve only had the best intentions. He recognized Letty's situation, saw and empathized with his pain and grief, wanted to protect him from a system that could sometimes easily overlook extenuating circumstances like those. But what gave Steve the right to have a say in what the man's punishment for his actions should be? What made him think he knew better than anyone, better than the law, the prosecution, the judge, the jury? What made him think he could just make deals on behalf of other people?

Maybe Letty wanted to face the full charges for what he had done. Maybe it was something he needed to do in order to be able to live with himself and his actions. Steve didn't know any of this, he just assumed.

But that wasn't even the worst part of it. No, the worst part was the inconsistency, the arbitrariness of it all. It was a system that was no system, because, after all, Steve was only human, too. Emotional, subjective, fallible. He wanted reduced charges for Letty. That was fine, understandable, reasonable. But it was not a deal he would have settle for when Danny had been in a Colombian prison because he had killed someone in cold blood. All charges dropped was the deal he had made back then. At the small price of one drug money profiting scumbag walking free.

That was hardly justice.

“What's going on,” Steve suddenly asked, his whole focus shifting to Danny. “You all right?”

Danny looked up to him briefly, took in the worried expression on his face.

If only Steve didn't worry so much. If he cared just a little less then maybe he wouldn't have made that deal. And maybe Danny would have been a little more all right for it. Because right now, here, he wasn't. Not even a little bit.

But Steve didn't need to know that, didn't need to worry more than he already did.

“Yeah,” Danny said, looking away at some undefined spot in front him him. “Just thinking about what this poor guy's been through,” he explained his mental pause away. “I mean, losing a kid, there's— there's nothing that could be worse, you know?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

  
  


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“Hey.”

Steve's voice startled Danny. He blinked his eyes when the lights came on.

Suddenly, he found his own reflection staring back at him in the kitchen window.

“Thought you wanted to heat up dinner?” Steve said as he walked over.

“Sorry,” Danny muttered. Only now, he noticed the beer bottle in his hand. Still full and now wet with condensation. He carefully put it down on the counter in front of him. “I—“ he started to explain but then realized that he had no idea what to say.

Steve seemed to understand anyway. “Rough day, huh?” he asked gently.

Danny hummed a noncommittal answer. Rough day didn't quite seem to do it justice.

Two strong, warm arms wrapped around him from behind then and Danny did his best not to stiffen, to breathe evenly and relax into the embrace. He closed his eyes, inhaled the familiar smell of a freshly showered Steve and tried to remember what this used to feel like. Being held like this used to feel different. Comforting, safe. Like family, like home. Easy.

But now— now it just felt wrong, confining, suffocating. Like there was no room for Danny's lungs to expand, no room for him to breathe.

He didn't want to feel like this. Not here, not with Steve. He wanted to stand here, be held and forget the rest of the world for just a little while.

But he couldn't. Couldn't enjoy even a brief moment of happiness with the person he loved, because he didn't deserve to feel—

“I'm sorry about what happened in the parking lot,” Danny heard himself blurt out, distracting himself from his own train of thought.

Steve nosed the back of his head, pressed a small kiss to his hair. Danny ignored the uncomfortable prickling the gentle touch sent down his spine.

“I get it, I understand,” Steve said quietly.

Danny wasn't sure he really did or could, felt like he needed to explain more. “I don't understand how this whole thing works,” he said, “with this disease and the transplant and the half-match donors. But I can't help but think, what if my bone marrow is Charlie's only chance to survive. That's what was going through my head back there. That's why I froze and let you go after Pelham alone.”

“It's okay,” Steve simply said, his voice soft and soothing.

Danny made a small, sarcastic sound at the back of his throat. “It's okay? Just like that?” He couldn't help but ask, couldn't suppress the doubt in his voice. Because it wasn't okay. He should have been there. “I was supposed to be your back-up,” he added.

“I can take care of myself. Charlie's just a kid. He needs you to look out for him.”

Letting out another sigh, Danny leaned back against Steve, trying to enjoy and find comfort in the feel of the solid chest pressed against his own body. He made himself cup his hands over Steve's where they rested folded on his belly, wanting to reciprocate at least some of the warmth Steve was offering. Because, in spite of everything, Danny was grateful that Steve was still here -- that he hadn't bled out in the middle of the street, alone.

Biting his lip, Danny blinked the images of what might have been from his mind. He needed to focus on the reality. This new, altered reality.

“I have a son,” he said quietly.

“You do,” Steve confirmed.

“Are you— I mean, are you okay with that? I don't—”

“He's your son, Danny.” Steve twisted his body a little. For a moment, Danny thought he was about to pull away, let go. But Steve simply craned his neck and pressed a kiss against Danny's temple. “I'm more than okay with it.”

Danny rubbed his hands over Steve's, barely keeping himself from prying his fingers loose to end the embrace. He thought back to their earlier conversation. Charlie was a part of their lives now and Steve didn't even get a say in the matter. He just had to accept it, regardless of how he might feel about the situation.

“This isn't fair to you,” Danny said.

Steve tightened his hold. Danny pretended he didn't suddenly feel trapped.

“It's not fair to you, either,” Steve said softly.

Danny just shrugged. This wasn't fair to anyone. Not to them, not to Charlie, to Grace, to Stan. The list went on and on. There were so many people Rachel had hurt with this.

“He's three years old and barely knows I exist,” Danny said, feeling a fresh surge of anger rising inside his chest. “There's so much I've missed. So much time I can't get back. Time that _we_ can't get back. What if this disease— What if—”

“Hey,” Steve cut him off, calm but effectively. He briefly pressed the side of his face against Danny's hair. “Charlie will be fine. We'll still have plenty of time together.”

The optimism in that statement was irritating. Steve knew that even if Charlie was going to be cured of this disease, there could still be a million obstacles in their way. Just knowing the truth didn't fix anything, didn't give Danny legally any right to just go and be with his son whenever he wanted to. And with Rachel involved, there were no guarantees that he would ever get the chance to be a father for Charlie, no matter how placable she was acting right now.

“What if Rachel won't let us,” he argued. “What if we end up in court and the judge decides that it's best for Charlie to stay with her and Stan?”

“You're his father,” Steve reminded gently.

“Charlie doesn't know that,” Danny countered loudly, some of the frustration that was simmering under his skin finally bubbling up to the surface. “He doesn't know _me_. Rachel, she made sure that I'm a stranger to my own son!”

“He'll get to know you.”

“That's not the point,” Danny snapped, turning abruptly, dislodging himself from Steve's hold. He fixed him with an angry glare because this quiet acceptance, all this understanding just couldn't be it. Steve had to have some kind of reaction to all this beyond that. He should be angry at Rachel, too. Or angry at Danny for bringing another child into their relationship. There had to be something more than _this_. Just a fraction of that vicious rage that boiled inside Danny's own gut.

And he could feel it, sense that there was _something_ there. “Stop being so fucking rational about all this,” he all but yelled at Steve.

Steve took a step back, pulled his shoulders up in an aborted shrug. “I'm just— I'm just trying to help, Danny,” he said somewhat helplessly, clearly taken aback by the vehemence of Danny's words.

“You know what would help me, make all this easier for me? If you would articulate, for once, just how you really feel about this.”

Steve's open expression darkened at that. He frowned, set his jaw and took in a deep breath. “You sure about that?” he asked.

The abrupt shift in his demeanor, the challenge in the sound of his voice caught Danny off-guard. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Steve gave him a long look. “How I really feel about this— It might not be what you wanna hear,” he then added.

Danny didn't know what to do with that, had no idea what the hell Steve was trying to say. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice still loud, still fueled by anger.

“You want me to be angry at her, at Rachel, for doing this to you? For taking all that time with your kid away from you? I am. I'm angry she did that to you. I'm angry she hurt you. But you know what?” Steve spread his hands wide, waited a beat and then let his arms fall limply to his sides. He exhaled a heavy sigh. “There's a part of me that's glad she did it.”

Danny stared at him, wide-eyed, shocked. His chest tightened, hurt. It felt like Steve had shoved something sharp through him, cut him right open. “What? Why?” he managed to say, forcing the words out of his constricting throat. He didn't understand, his brain refusing to even try to come up with a possible explanation for why Steve would say something like that when he had claimed just minutes ago that he was okay with Charlie being part of their family… Or had Danny misunderstood?

“Why?” he asked again.

“Because…” Steve said, trailing off. He shook his head. Danny thought he saw a shadow of pain flare up in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the ground. “I keep seeing Grace's face,” Steve then said quietly. “I can't forget that look on her face.”

Danny didn't understand. None of this was making any sense to him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, almost begged.

Steve's eyes flickered up again. They were hooded and heavy with a sadness that startled Danny. “That day, when you decided to not get a lawyer, when you signed those papers and waived extradition, I went to talk to her like you asked me to, like I owed her to.” Steve paused briefly to inhale a deep, steadying breath and then swallowed thickly. The memory of that day was clearly painful and Danny suddenly didn't want him to continue, didn't want to know what he'd done to Steve and to Grace. How he'd hurt the two most important people in his life.

“She was sitting outside and saw my car,” Steve continued. “And she thought— for a moment, she thought I was bringing you back to her. She was calling your name and— You weren't there.”

Danny could only stand there and imagine the expression on his little girl's face. The disappointment and fear.

He had thought about her and Steve the whole time… but he had never pictured this moment, had never thought about how hard it must have been for Steve to tell Grace, explaining to her why her dad had been arrested for murder.

“I—“ Danny started to say but he didn't know how to continue. He needed to say something, though, to make this right again, erase the hurt that still shone brightly in Steve's eyes even now.

“You weren't there,” Steve repeated calmly. “Because you decided that punishing yourself for what you did was more important than her.”

The words stung, hit Danny like a slap in the face. Steve made it sound like waiving extradition had been some kind of selfish act. Did he not understand that Danny had murdered someone? That signing those papers had simply been a way for him to finally accept that, own up to it and face the consequences for his actions? How could Steve fault him for that? Attack him, blame him?

The anger in his belly was suddenly back, sharp and all-encompassing, edging aside every other emotion, every ounce of regret. “What the hell else was I supposed to do?” he asked loudly.

“Fight,” Steve stated simply. The desperation in the tone of his voice surprised Danny, froze him momentarily.

“You were supposed to fight. If not for us then for Grace. Do whatever you have to do so your kid doesn't have to grow up without a father. But you just gave up.”

Steve paused, maybe to let his words sink in. His expression softened — it hadn't been angry to begin with, just… desperate, helpless. “I know this thing with Reyes has been hard on you but— You said you'd always be here, with me.” Steve shrugged. Danny averted his gaze to the floor, just so he didn't have to see the tears glistening in his eyes.

“But you gave up. On yourself, on us, on Grace. On everything. And I can't figure out why.”

Danny shook his head. Because Steve— he was _wrong_. He got it all wrong. Danny hadn't given up on anyone or anything. He'd just tried to do the right thing.

“I— That's not— that's not true,” he argued but his voice came out weak and small.

“Danny.”

No. Steve was wrong about this. And he knew it, too; had to know it, because he was part of the reason why Danny had singed that waiver in the first place.

“What I did was to protect you. I kept my mouth shut so they wouldn't arrest you, too!” Danny hissed at him, hurt and still angry because he had been willing to sacrifice everything for Steve. So how dare he turn on Danny like this now?

Steve huffed out a breath. “That's bullshit and you know it!”

“You're wrong!”

“Danny—” Steve stopped, exhaled with a sigh. “You've been acting different every since and I'm worried about you.”

Danny flinched at the softness of his voice, pretended he hadn't heard the love and fear in his tone. “You're worried about me?” he asked darkly. “That's rich. You're the one taking stupid risks all the time and you are worried about me?”

Steve just shook his head. “That's not the same,” he said calmly.

“No, what you do is worse,” Danny accused. He had lowered his voice, but his tone was venomous. He was out for blood. Because Steve's words hurt him, badly. And all he wanted now was to hurt him back. “I let them take me to Colombia to face the consequences for what I've done. I deserve to be in prison. I killed a man. But you! You never think about yourself or me or Grace whenever you take off after some guy shooting at you.”

“Don't make this about me,” Steve said quietly. And then he looked at Danny with eyes full of compassion and love and sadness — and it hurt even worse. “You haven't dealt with what happened.”

“No, I haven't. Because you didn't let me!” Danny shouted.

“What did you want me to do? Leave you there?” Steve asked incredulously, voice rising almost to match Danny's.

“Yes! I know it's not fair to you or to Grace but— I killed a man. I belong in prison. I know you can't accept that, but it's the truth!”

“They almost killed you on the first day. You think you deserve that, too?”

“Doesn't matter now, does it? It doesn't matter that I want to pay for what I've done. Because you made sure that I can't!”

“There's gotta be another way. A way where Grace doesn't have to grow up without you, a way where you don't get beaten to death. You have to find another way, Danny. You have to. If you want to be a father for Charlie, then you have to find a way to deal with it.”

Steve was pleading with him, begging.

But Danny knew— he _knew_ Steve was wrong. And he had no right to question Danny's right to be a father to his own child like this.

“What do you know about being a father?” he asked flatly. “You have no fucking idea what that means.”

Steve took the blow stoically, without so much as a flinch. His silence was the only proof that Danny had hit his mark.

Surprised by his own words, stunned by their cruelty, Danny could only stand there and stare at the ground by Steve's feet.

“You're right,” Steve said after a beat, “I don't know what it's like to be a father.”

Danny bristled a little, but the admission gave him no satisfaction.

“But I do know what it's like to be that kid.”

Danny's eyes snapped up to meet Steve's. “No, don't,” he snarled, clenching his hands to fists to stop himself from physically attacking Steve in retaliation for the stinging accusation. “Don't bring your fucked-up family into this! Don't make this about your issues. I'm nothing like them!” Danny yelled, heart pounding, chest heaving — furious. Because he was nothing like Steve's parents. And how dare he make that comparison? How dare he say Danny was anything like them? How dare he, when Danny knew how much their actions still hurt Steve to this day. How dare he suggest that Danny would ever do anything to hurt Grace like that?

Steve just looked at him, his expression concerned and heartbroken. But at the same time, he looked so goddamn sure of himself, so sure that he was right.

But he couldn't be. He couldn't be right. Danny would never do that. He would never abandon his family like Doris had abandoned hers. He would never send Grace and Charlie away like John McGarrett had sent away his children.

But Steve thought he would, was convinced that Danny had it in him. And that hurt. It hurt so much.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Danny started for the door, convinced that Steve, of all people, should know him better than that. He should trust Danny, believe him when he said that he would never—

“Danny, hey!” Steve was calling his name, was reaching out to him and Danny just reacted. He shoved his hands into Steve's chest, pushed him back against the kitchen island -- because Steve was _wrong_ , Danny would never hurt his family like that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve stumble and steady himself on the surface behind him. But even if he'd fallen down, Danny didn't think he would have been able to stop. His body seemed to be operating on auto-pilot, programmed simply to get out of here, get out of this house, get away from Steve and his accusations because he was _wrong_.

Danny made it to the car, slipped inside clumsily and then just drove and drove and drove, until he pulled off the highway, into the small, familiar alcove overlooking the ocean. There was nothing to see now, though. Just darkness.

He climbed over the low wall, sat down facing the water and closed his eyes.

And only then he allowed the reality to catch up. Only then he acknowledged to himself that Steve was not wrong.

Because Danny had let himself be taken to Colombia. He had let himself be taken thousands of miles away from Grace and Steve and everyone he knew, everyone he loved.

He hadn't fought, hadn't even tried.

He had abandoned everything because he needed to pay for what he'd done.

But at what cost? To Grace, to Steve. And to Charlie, too, if Rachel had been honest from the start.

Danny had always been aware that his decision to not fight the extradition would be hard on his family. But he had never, until now, so fully realized just how much his punishment would have been their's, too. Grace would have had to grow up without her father, Steve would have been left behind once again. And now there was Charlie, who could have died because his best option for treatment would have been sitting in a prison cell thousands of miles away.

They all would have paid a price for what Danny had done.

And here he was, still wishing that he had been allowed to stay in prison to atone for his sins, that Steve hadn't moved Heaven and Earth to get him back home.

And maybe that was the real problem. That he still felt that way. That this need to pay, to be punished for what he'd done was still there, sharp and prominent, every single day.

What if, one day, he would find a way to satisfy that need and only ended up hurting them anyway? What if he ended up hurting them worse than he ever could have by leaving?

Maybe a prison cell in Colombia would have been the best possible outcome for everyone. But that option was no longer available.

The next best thing would be to leave them. Maybe go back to Jersey — or some other place entirely. Some place where he didn't know anyone. Where he couldn't hurt anyone.

Maybe go nowhere at all.

The sound of small waves crashing into the rock wall somewhere deep below him suddenly filtered through to Danny and he froze. Nowhere at all was right there. Just a couple of steps in front of him. If he just got up and walked—

Charlie needed him to live.

Danny felt his lungs seize as he scrambled over the wall he was sitting on, stumbling as his feet hit the solid, gravely ground behind it. He headed for the car, crawled inside and slammed the door shut, gripping the steering wheel tightly, holding on.

Only then, he managed to drag in a breath, small and insufficient. His lungs burned from lack of oxygen.

What the hell was he doing? What the hell was he thinking?

  
  


— 6 months ago —

  
  


“ _Will you do me the honor?”_

_Danny looked up from Grace's text message to find Steve's aunt, Deb, standing next to him. She was gesturing towards the small area where a handful of couples were dancing to slow Hawaiian music. It was getting late, the wedding celebration drawing to a close and Danny wouldn't miss his chance to dance with the beautiful bride._

_He smiled up at Deb and slipped his phone into the pocket of his pants. “The honor is all mine,” he said as he stood and then gave a small bow before taking Deb's hand to lead her out to the dance floor. On their way, Danny spotted Steve talking to Lou by the bar. So that was where he had wandered off to._

_With a small shake of his head, he focussed on Deb again. Stopping, he spun her in a half-circle and then drew her in close before taking up position with her._

_Deb laughed lightly at his overly serious expression. “I'm glad you could be here today,” she said, still smiling as they started to dance, swaying slowly back and forth._

“ _Are you kidding me, I wouldn't have missed this for the world,” Danny said and then laughed when she squeezed and twisted his hand to change direction. “Oh, wow, look at you,” Danny commented. “Maybe you should lead. I'm not sure I can keep up.”_

_The hand on his shoulder tightened, the one in his hand squeezed again. Deb suddenly looked deadly serious up at him. “Don't break his heart. I will break every single bone in your body if you do,” she promised, her voice hard and determined._

_Danny tried not to flinch. “O-okay,” he stuttered, surprised and a little intimidated by the unexpected threat. “Wow.”_

_Deb narrowed her eyes at him. “Even if I die tomorrow. I will find a way to haunt your ass,” she added._

_Danny stared at her wide-eyed. “I believe you,” he said, convinced that she would actually find a way. Not that he intended to give her a reason to._

_Apparently satisfied with his answer, Deb gave a curt nod. “Good,” she decided. “Steve deserves to be happy,” she added and looked over to the bar, her expression softening when she spotted her nephew._

_After studying Steve for a long moment, Deb sighed. “I know there are things he's not telling me,” she said and then shifted her gaze to look at Danny again. “I'm old, not blind,” she added, eyes moving to find Steve again. “I can see the scars. I can see the shadows in his eyes.” Deb shook her head sadly. Then she smiled. “And I can see the way he looks at you,” she continued, looking back at Danny again. “I can see how his face— how_ he _just… lights up when he looks at you.”_

_Danny didn't know what to say to that._

“ _I don't want to die,” Deb added. “But if— if I don't win this fight… at least I know that he gets to love and be loved, even if some scars will always be there. And for that, I am very grateful, Daniel.”_

 

— present —

  
  


“ _Danny, it's me. Listen, I— Just let me know that you're okay, all right? Please.”_

Steve had called three times, had left that one voice mail message and Danny kept listening to it. Over and over again. And he didn't even know why. Maybe because it felt good to hear Steve's voice or to know that, after everything, he still cared.

But it didn't feel good. All it did was hurt.

He was just about to listen to the message again when the phone in his hand buzzed with an incoming text message from Rachel.

_Doctors can fit you in at 9 am tomorrow. Meet you at hospital._

The blood test. Rachel had said that it couldn't wait. But actually taking the test — it suddenly made everything seem more real. Danny was going to take this test because Charlie really was his son. Charlie really was sick. And maybe he really needed Danny's bone marrow to survive.

Looking up from his phone, Danny stared into the darkness outside the car. He was still parked on the ridge off the highway, probably had been here for a while now. An hour, maybe longer.

Giving his head a quick shake, he focussed on the phone in his hand again and sent a response to Rachel, telling her he'd be there.

Then came the hard part.

Danny pulled up his text message conversation with Steve. The very last message from him was from a few days ago and read _'Love u,'_ followed by a stupid kissy face emoji. Danny hated cutesy symbols, preferred to use actual words over weird, cryptic sequences of tiny pictures. They were stupid and the round yellow thing looked nothing like Steve. But looking at it, Danny could still see him make that exact same, dumb face at him.

Smiling sadly, he stroked his thumb over the message.

 _Steve,_ he typed then. And suddenly he wondered if Steve would ever send him stupid kissy face emojis ever again.

Closing his eyes briefly, Danny sighed and tried to concentrate, ignoring the heaviness of his heart inside his chest.

_Don't worry, I'm fine. Staying at my place tonight. Won't be in tomorrow bc of blood test. Call me if there's an emergency at work._

He stopped typing again, not sure what else to say. He couldn't hide for long behind blood tests and helping Charlie. But right now, he just didn't know what to do, how to deal with everything else. And in a way, this fight with Steve— it felt right. Like something that had been a long time coming, something inevitable. The way it was supposed to be, maybe.

Maybe this was his punishment. Losing Steve like this.

Danny didn't feel like he deserved him anyway.

He hit sent, then put his phone on the passenger seat, started the car and drove to his house.

Home.

  
  


— 5 months ago —

  
  


_He drifted awake when something nudged against his lower jaw. Keeping his eyes closed, Danny shivered as familiar lips trailed a line of lazy, sleepy kisses down the side of his neck. An arm was resting across his middle under the blanket, a large, warm hand braced against his ribs._

“ _Good morning to you, too,” Danny muttered when Steve started working his way back up again._

_Teeth grazed Danny's chin. “Mele Kalikimaka,” Steve said quietly, pushing himself up to bump his nose against Danny's._

_Smiling, Danny opened his eyes._

_This was by far the best way to wake up, with the man he loved looking right into his eyes, lying half on top of him, happy._

“ _Merry Christmas,” he said and reached up with the arm that wasn't currently crushed under two hundred pounds of naked Lieutenant Commander. Curling the hand around Steve's head, threading his fingers through short, soft hair, Danny let his eyes drift shut again as he pulled Steve down for another gentle kiss. And another. And another._

_Eventually pulling apart, Danny opened his eyes again, deliberately slowly this time just to savor that moment of finding Steve looking back at him again, dragging it out for as long as possible._

“ _Hey,” Steve whispered._

_Danny answered with another smile, stretched his neck a little. “What time is it?” he then muttered, wondering why Grace hadn't woken them up yet. She was usually bursting with excitement to unwrap her presents by seven. And she couldn't be getting too old for Christmas morning… Santa or not, there was no way his baby girl—_

“ _A little after six,” Steve said, interrupting Danny's thoughts._

_Well, that explained Grace's absence and the muted, golden light spilling into the room through the curtains. And the lingering fatigue. Four hours of sleep were nowhere close to enough._

_It had almost been two in the morning before the last of their friends had finally left. Kono and Steve had barely managed to stop a very drunk Pua from dragging their illegally obtained Christmas tree out of the house. Slurring, he had promised to be back at eight am sharp._

_Sighing, Danny frowned at Steve. “Why am I awake?” he asked._

_Steve grinned excitedly and then pulled away. “I got something for you,” he mumbled, head hanging off the bed as he searched for something underneath it. Or maybe that was where he had dropped his jeans last night._

_Danny rolled his eyes._

_A moment later, Steve popped back up, holding a small cardboard box in his hand. It was too flat and not fancy enough to be a ring box… not that Danny's mind went there._

_Heaving another sigh, he moved to sit up against the headboard when Steve didn't lie back down._

“ _What's this?” Danny asked as Steve held out the box to him._

“ _A Christmas present.”_

“ _A Christmas present?” Danny echoed, mock surprised. It was Christmas morning after all. “For me?” he added, accepting the box._

_Now Steve was rolling his eyes. “No, for the Governor. Thought I'd ask your opinion first. Of course, it's for you. Are you gonna open it?”_

_Always so impatient. There was something clanky inside the box but it was definitely not a ring. So, given that, Danny figured he could indulge in teasing Steve a little._

“ _This is a very small box,” he observed, turning it over in his hands._

“ _So?” Steve asked, frowning as he stared at it._

_Danny raised an eyebrow at him. “What if I got you a really, really big present?”_

“ _Did you?”_

_Danny shrugged and held up the box. “It's bigger than this,” he said, waggling his eyebrows._

_Annoyed, Steve huffed out a breath at that. “Would you just open it?” he requested. “Please.”_

“ _Fine,” Danny decided. He carefully lifted the lid and peeked inside. Frowning at the small object inside the box, he looked up at Steve, back down at the thing and then up at Steve again. “It's a key,” he said._

_Danny knew that key._

“ _It's a key to my house,” Steve confirmed._

_Okay, now that just didn't make any sense. “I know, babe, because I already got one of these,” Danny said, grabbing the key from the box to hold it up in front of Steve's face. Maybe that'd help him remember that Danny's had one for years._

_Steve ducked his head, probably afraid the key would end up in his eye. “I gave you the other one for emergencies,” he explained and then pursed his lips, clearly disappointed by Danny's lack of undying gratitude._

“ _And this is for…?” Danny prompted, rolling his key-less hand._

_Steve shrugged. “For whenever,” he said, a little sheepishly, ears flushing an adorable shade of pink._

“ _Ah,” Danny said, trying hard to ignore the swarm of butterflies buzzing inside his chest. He looked at Steve seriously. “So, does that mean that when there's an emergency, I'll have to use the other one or—“_

_Steve threw his head back and groaned. “Shut up. Just shut up,” he mumbled, flailing his hands in Danny's direction. “I get it, it was a stupid idea.”_

_Danny quickly set the box aside. He deftly captured the hands and tugged at them. Steve made a sound of protest but came surprisingly willingly, let himself be pulled and pushed until he was where Danny wanted him, lying almost diagonally across the bed, on his back and with Danny propped up on all fours over him._

_Dipping his head, Danny bumped his nose against Steve's. “It's not stupid. It's really… very thoughtful,” he all but whispered. “Almost kind of adorable. Maybe even romantic.”_

_Steve bristled a little at that. “I can be thoughtful,” he said, both hands coming up to bracket Danny's ribs, calloused thumbs starting to stroke slowly over sensitive skin there._

_Danny rewarded the gentle caress by lowering himself down again and dropping a small kiss to the corner of Steve's lips. “So, what am I supposed to do with the other one?” he then asked._

_Steve's hands stilled. “I thought you could give that one to Grace,” he said, a little hesitantly. “She has a room, she should have a key to the house to actually be able to get to the room.”_

“ _That's very pragmatic of you,” Danny observed, knowing it was only part of the reason._

_Underneath him, Steve sighed. “I know you're worried about how her life is spread out all over the island but… I don't want her to feel like a guest in my house.”_

_A warmth spread through Danny's entire body that had nothing to do with the morning sunlight touching his skin. Yes, he had been concerned at first that a room for Grace at Steve's house could be a little overwhelming for her. But things were working out really well. And this, Steve wanting Grace to feel at home in his house, was only further proof of that._

_Smiling, Danny nodded. “Okay,” he simply said._

“ _Look, Danny, if you think it's too soon to give her the key or… inappropriate or anything, then you—“_

_Danny stopped Steve's rambling by pressing a kiss to his mouth._

“ _I think it's a great idea,” he said. “Thank you.”_

  
  


— present —

  
  


With lights flashing bright red, the rescue truck barreled towards the flipped over car. Charlie scrambled after it, crawling on all fours, making howling siren noises.

From his position on the carpet, Danny shot a quick look around the area, cringing a little at the high-pitched squeals. They were in a hospital after all. But so far, none of the staff had complained about the disturbance they were causing.

“Oh, thank god, the rescue truck is here!” he then exclaimed when Charlie stopped the big car next to the small red convertible.

Charlie grinned at him and pulled at the ladder on top of the truck, extending it across to the smaller car, starting the rescue operation.

Danny was happy to just watch him for a moment.

He looked up when Rachel cleared her throat above them. “I'm sorry to break this up, but we're all done here and Charlie will be getting tired really soon,” she said, her tone apologetic.

Danny simply nodded and focussed on his son again. “Mommy says it's time to go,” he told him.

Charlie frowned unhappily and looked up at his mom with sad puppy eyes. “I wanna play more with Danno,” he begged.

“Hey, we'll do this again soon, okay?” Danny said, smiling at the kid encouragingly. Charlie hesitated a moment before he nodded, returning the smile shyly.

Danny held out his fist to him. “I had a good time, buddy,” he said and Charlie quickly bumped his own fist against Danny's.

“Me, too.”

Danny grinned and ruffled the boys hair before he got to his feet.

Rachel held out her hand to Charlie. “Come here, sweetheart,” she prompted.

Clutching the rescue truck tightly to his chest, Charlie stood and took his mom's offered hand.

“You know you have to leave the toys here,” Rachel told him. “There are other kids here who want to play with them.”

With a heartbroken expression on his face and a big pout, Charlie reluctantly set the truck back down on the carpet. Danny figured he knew what to get him as a reward for being brave during all the medical procedures he had to endure.

He walked Rachel and Charlie to their car. Waiting until the kid was safely buckled into his seat and the door firmly closed, Danny stopped Rachel with a hand on her elbow before she could climb into the car as well. “What about Grace?” he simply asked, having no doubt that Rachel knew what exactly he meant.

She sighed, shooting him a pleading look. “Danny—”

“I don't want to keep secrets from her,” he interjected before she could even attempt to argue against telling their daughter that Danny was also Charlie's father. And while Danny was sure it wouldn't make much of a difference for Grace whether Charlie was her half-brother or full-brother, things were about to change for all of them. Charlie would hopefully start spending more time with them soon and Danny was already getting involved in his son's life now. So Grace had every right to know the truth.

Rachel opened her mouth again and Danny just knew she wasn't done arguing. So he spoke before she could.

“If you don't want to tell her, I will. She's old enough to understand.”

Sighing in defeat, Rachel glared at him. “Okay. Fine.” She shrugged, then wrapped her arms around herself like a protective shell. Danny knew exactly what was going through her head. That the truth could destroy her relationship with her daughter. And he felt almost sorry for her. But this wasn't about her. It wasn't about punishing Rachel for the lies. This was about Grace and Charlie and what was best for them.

“I will tell her soon.”

“Today,” Danny decided. “And I want to be there.”

Rachel hesitated but then nodded, resigned. “Why don't you come home with us,” she suggested, gesturing to Charlie in his seat. “Have lunch with us and then we will talk with Grace when she gets home from school.” She paused, looking at their son. “Maybe you could read him a story before his nap.”

Danny raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected an offer like that and didn't know what to make of it. Just seconds ago, he and Rachel had been on the verge of an argument, a fight. And now this?

“I'm trying, Danny,” she said. “I know there's nothing I can do to make this right but—“ She broke off with a sigh, shrugging helplessly.

Danny wished he could look inside her head. See if this was genuine or if this was just part of some charade, some dishonest show of remorse, orchestrated to provide her with leverage for the inevitable dispute over custody and visitation.

Whatever this was, right now it was more time with Charlie and Danny was not going to say no to that. “Okay,” he said and nodded his head towards his own car. “I'll follow you to your house.”

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Rachel sent the driver to pick up Grace from school. Danny let her. He easily could have picked her up himself but somehow found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Charlie sleeping peacefully in his bed.

Charlie. If he had known from the start, would his name even be Charlie.

Charles. Chuck. Chucky. Charles. Charles Williams.

Probably not.

A soft touch on his shoulder startled Danny from his thoughts. “Grace is here,” Rachel said, voice quiet to not disturb Charlie in his sleep. She took a moment then, too, to watch their son. And the way she looked at him, so loving and caring, made Danny almost want to be able to stop resenting her for what she'd done.

“Danno?” Grace suddenly asked from behind them. Danny hadn't even heard her come up the stairs. He turned to find his daughter looking at him curiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Monkey.” Danny gave her a quick hug and a kiss to the top of her head. An easy, comfortable routine. Normalcy.

Danny felt a pang as he wondered if he would ever have something like this with Charlie.

“Your mother and I have to talk to you,” he said, pushing those thoughts aside for the moment.

Grace looked wide-eyed from him to Rachel. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart,” Rachel told her in a whisper, gently closing the door to Charlie's room. “Put your backpack in your room and then come downstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” Grace said. With a skeptical frown on her face, she marched off.

Danny followed Rachel to the living room. He settled into an armchair while Rachel sat down on the sofa. The awkward silence between them was thankfully quickly interrupted when Grace joined them.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” Rachel told her, lightly patting the space next to her.

“What's going on?” Grace asked, looking once again dubiously from Danny to her mom as she sat down.

“You know that Charlie is sick,” Rachel started and then paused. Grace's eyes immediately widened as she drew what had to be the obvious conclusion.

“Is he—“

“No, no,” Rachel quickly said, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on her daughter's arm. “Charlie's still— He's doing okay. But he needs treatment. He needs a bone marrow transplant.”

Grace took in the information with a frown. “Okay,” she said, but Danny wasn't sure she knew exactly what a bone marrow transplant was. And he realized in that moment that he didn't really know either. He had an idea but no real information.

“That means the doctors need to take some bone marrow from someone else and give it to Charlie,” he explained as good as he could. Grace nodded. “A family member is usually the best person to give bone marrow.”

“Does he need my bone marrow?” Grace asked.

“No, sweetheart,” Rachel told her, giving her arm a small squeeze. “The doctors already did a test on your blood and you're not a good match for him.”

Grace lowered her gaze to the floor and sighed sadly. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh, no. It's okay,” Rachel told her.

“It's not your fault,” Danny added. “There's nothing anyone can do to be a good match. It's genetics. And a parent can also be donor.”

Grace looked up again. Her expression brightened hopefully and she focussed on Rachel again. “Are you or Stan a match?”

Rachel sighed at that, then bit her lip.

Now for the hard part, Danny thought.

“Do you remember a few years ago, when you and I took that vacation and spent a week in Newark?” Rachel asked. “Danny was supposed to go with us but he got caught up at work.”

Grace frowned again but then nodded slowly. “I missed a week of school,” she recalled thoughtfully.

Rachel smiled tightly and pulled her hand away from Grace's arm. Danny watched as she smoothed her palms over her thighs and then curled her fingers to tight fists. She didn't look at Grace when she spoke again. “Back then, for a short time, Danny and I thought that we could get back together again.”

Grace's eyes narrowed as she mulled that statement over in her head, probably trying to figure out what exactly that was supposed to mean.

Danny added, “We did get back together for a little while, actually.”

Confused, Grace looked from him to Rachel. “But you were married to Stan,” she said.

Rachel nodded, her expression apologetic. “I was.”

Grace's eyes widened in realization. “You cheated on him?” she asked incredulously. Then her head whipped around and she stared at Danny, anger and betrayal sparkling brightly in her big eyes. He could tell she'd connected the dots. “Are you Charlie's father?” she asked. The tone of her voice held a sharp, stinging accusation.

Danny gave a small nod to confirm what Grace had figured out. “I didn't know.”

“I only told him yesterday,” Rachel added, surprising Danny. He hadn't expected her to support him in this, to take the blame on herself so readily.

Grace was still staring at Danny but her eyes lost their focus and her brow knitted in anger. “You got back together and you didn't tell me?” she asked, slightly shaking her head. “You lied to me this whole time?”

“It was a complicated situation,” Rachel tried. “We didn't know if it was going to work out and—“

“I don't care,” Grace all but yelled. “You lied to me about it.”

“Grace—“ Danny started in a soothing tone but didn't get any further.

“You both lied to me!” Grace screamed at him and Danny couldn't remember ever seeing her like this. This furious and hurt.

“Grace, please, your brother's asleep,” Rachel admonished.

“I don't care!” Grace shot up from her spot on the sofa then. Angry tears spilling down her cheeks, she started heading for the door. “I hate you! Both of you!”

“Grace!” Rachel called after her, moving to get up and follow her.

Danny quickly stood and stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Let her go,” he said, shaking his head.

A door banged loudly upstairs and both he and Rachel flinched. A couple seconds later, dull sounds of music started droning through the ceiling.

Rachel looked up and slowly released a breath.

Danny gave her arm a quick squeeze before he let go. “You didn't have to tell her that you only told me yesterday,” he then said.

Rachel looked at him and shrugged. “It's the truth. I was hoping she wouldn't get angry at both of us.”

Danny simply nodded. That had backfired spectacularly. But honestly, he hadn't expected Grace to focus like that on the fact that he and Rachel had briefly gotten back together without telling her about it. Rachel had decided to stay with Stan after finding out about the pregnancy and they had both been glad they had never told Grace. She would have been heartbroken all over again. But now it seemed the omission was coming back to bite them.

“I should go check on Charlie,” Rachel decided.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. He then nodded his head towards the door. “And I should go. I'll try calling Grace tonight.”

Rachel accepted that with a sigh. Danny was sure she would try talking to her again, too. “Give her some space, okay,” he added.

Rachel nodded and then forced a smile. “I'll call you when I hear from the hospital about the blood tests… but they'll probably call you, too, so—“

“Call me anyway,” Danny told her. Because no matter who of them was going to turn out to be the better donor for Charlie, they were going to see a lot more of each other in the weeks and maybe months to come. “We'll have some things, logistics to discuss, so…”

“All right.”

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Danny drove to his house. There hadn't been a call from Steve or anyone else, so he figured he wasn't needed at HQ today.

At home, he changed into more comfortable clothes before he settle down at the dining room table with his laptop. He started by googling  _HLH_ and quickly found out it stood fo r hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis. He tried saying that out loud a couple of times but quickly gave up. HLH it was.

In the following hours, he learned that there were two different forms of the disease, that mortality rates depended on a lot of different factors and that treatment options could include chemotherapy and a lot of other scary things he wasn't sure he knew what to do with. He also read up on bone marrow transplants but the donation part of the procedure was just details and afterthoughts to him. Whatever he had to do, however painful it was going to be didn't really seem to matter as long as Charlie was going to be all right.

It was already dark outside when his phone rang. Rachel's name flashed across the screen. He accepted the call but couldn't get a word out before she spoke.

“ _Danny, Grace is gone.”_

The words made Danny's brain short-circuit. “What? What do you—“

“ _She's not in her room,”_ Rachel cut in, fear and desperation clearly audible in her voice. _“She's not anywhere in the house, I've looked everywhere.”_

“Calm down,” Danny told her, trying to do the same, trying to breathe evenly to stop his heart from punching a hole into his chest. “Did you try calling her?”

“ _Of course, I tried calling her. She's not picking up. I've already left her three messages but she—“_

“It's okay, Rachel. Calm down. She's probably just at a friend's house.” It made sense after the fight they had had, Danny told himself. She felt betrayed and hurt, she was a teenager. She would, hopefully, go to someone where she felt safe and understood. “Have you called anyone yet?” Danny added as he stood to head for the door. He was going to call HPD to have them put out an alert on her, have them locate her cell or drive to the Palace and do it himself.

He stopped when there was a beeping sound on the line.

“ _No, I—“_

“Hang on, Rach,” Danny interrupted her. “I got another incoming call.” He quickly glanced at the screen, hoping it was Grace but instead he saw another familiar face there. “It's Steve,” he told Rachel. “I call you right back, okay.” He ended the call without waiting for a response from her.

“Steve, hey,” he blurted out and only then remembered their fight. For a moment there, he had completely forgotten, distracted by worry for his daughter.

“ _Hey, Danny,”_ Steve answered. _“I'm just calling to let you know that Grace showed up at my house a few minutes ago.”_

“Oh, thank god,” Danny sighed, putting a hand against the still closed front door as a massive wave of relief washed over him. Grace was with Steve. She was safe.

“ _She— um, she's pretty upset,”_ Steve added carefully.

Danny closed his eyes, turned around and leaned his back against the door. “Rachel and I told her about Charlie,” he said.

“ _Yeah, I got that.”_

Danny wondered what exactly Grace had told Steve. “Can I— Do you mind if I—“

“ _Sure,”_ Steve simply said. He knew that Danny needed to come over and make sure she was all right.

“Thank you.”

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Danny knocked on Steve's front door.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd knocked on this door. Even before they had gotten together, Danny had rarely bothered to knock, knowing he was, in a way at least, always welcome here. But now he wasn't so sure anymore.

The sight of Steve just standing there when he opened the door almost took his breath away, because only right in that moment, Danny realized how much he had missed him during the day. He'd been so busy today, maybe distracting himself, trying not to let these feelings get to him— but god, did he miss Steve.

Steve stepped to the side a little, gestured for him to come in. Danny walked inside, feeling like a stranger in the house he had come to think of as his home in recent months.

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, he turned to face Steve again. “Is she okay?” he asked.

Steve's latently weary expression softened at the question. “She's fine, Danny,” he said gently, confirming what, deep down, Danny had already known. There was no safer place for her to be.

“She went upstairs when I told her you were coming over,” Steve added. He paused, fixing Danny with an assessing look. “Are you okay?”

Danny almost flinched away from the scrutiny and the concern. After everything, it felt wrong, undeserved. “Yeah,” he assured quickly, nodding dismissively. “Yeah.”

“You wanna go talk to her?” Steve offered, gesturing towards the stairs.

Danny raised a doubtful eyebrow at him. “You think that's a good idea?”

Steve shrugged noncommittally. “Give her a little space maybe,” he said, unknowingly echoing Danny's suggestion to Rachel.

“I can drop her off at school tomorrow,” Steve added.

To Danny, it was an unexpected reminder that he wasn't going to stay here tonight, that he was going to go back to his own, empty house.

“Thank you,” he managed to say and then they were just looking at each other and Danny couldn't bear to have Steve's eyes on him, that heavy, concerned and sad gaze that kept asking him _why_. “And— and thank you for— for being here for her,” he added, just to say something, to break the tension of the moment.

Danny only realized his mistake when Steve looked away, scoffing. He wanted to punch himself in the face because, of course, Steve was going to be there for Grace. It wasn't even a question and Steve definitely didn't want Danny to thank him for it.

“Shit, Steve, I— I'm sorry,” Danny quickly blurted out. “I didn't— I meant—“

Steve shook his head, shrugged again as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It's okay.”

“I'm glad she came here,” Danny offered.

“Me, too.”

Steve briefly looked up the stairs. A small, fond smile was tugging at his lips when he looked back to Danny. “She was worried about you coming over so I told her you were staying at your place tonight anyway.” He paused, huffed out a rueful laugh. “She gave me this— this look and said we could be mad at you together.”

Danny laughed at that, too, not even sure why.

The moment passed and an awkward silence settled between them once again.

“I should go,” Danny decided.

To his surprise, Steve reached out to him then, put a hand on his arm to stop him from leaving. “Danny,” he simply said and it was all he needed to say for Danny to understand what he meant.

And Danny wanted nothing more than to stay, pretend yesterday had never happened. But he couldn't. Not now, not before he figured out if and how he could deal with the way he still felt about killing Reyes, about not being in prison for it.

“I know we need to talk,” he said, shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders helplessly, apologetic. “But I need some time to think about things.”

Steve hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly and tried to offer a strained smile.

“But I want you to know that I'm sorry for the way I left the other day,” Danny said, feeling like he should offer something in return. And now that he let himself, he remembered shoving Steve back into the counter, running out without an explanation. He remembered how angry he had been, how recklessly he had hung on to his denial, how cruelly he'd tried to retaliate. “And for the things I said to you,” he added.

Steve just looked at him and Danny could tell he had already forgiven everything, even though he shouldn't. Not like this, not this easily, not this selflessly.

And then Steve moved in closer to Danny, slowly stroked a palm over the side of his face, then cradled it around his neck.

Danny couldn't move, stood breathlessly as Steve closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. The thumb by Danny's ear stroked gently back and forth, hot breath tingled on Danny's lips. But he still couldn't move, couldn't offer any tenderness in return. All he was able to do was stand there and try not to flinch away from the careful, loving caress.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.

Danny closed his eyes then, too. He wanted nothing more than to say the same to Steve. But he couldn't do that either. Couldn't even get a 'me, too' out. And it was right there, in that moment, when he realized that he couldn't even remember the last time he'd said it, the last time he'd told Steve that he loved him — even though he knew with absolute certainty that he did.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Pulling away, carefully removing Steve's hands from his body, Danny stepped back. His shoulders twitched in an aborted shrug, his hands fidgeted, his knees felt weak. “I'm sorry, I can't—“ he shook his head jerkily, didn't dare to look up at Steve, to look him in the eye, afraid of what he might see in his expression. “I can't do this right now.”

He turned to leave, to run out on him again.

Steve's voice stopped Danny briefly as he reached the door. “I'll wait,” he simply said.

Danny couldn't help but think that maybe he shouldn't. But he didn't say anything.

He just left.

  
  


— 5 months ago —

  
  


“ _You're wearing too many clothes,” Steve mumbled against Danny's neck as he licked and tongued that spot behind his ear that sent waves of heat and bursts of electric sparks through his entire body, that mad him shiver and moan and putty in Steve's hands._

_Hands that were currently tugging impatiently at the elastic band of his boxer shorts._

“ _Hey, hey,” Danny protested. Because when it came to sex, Steve seemed to operate at exactly one speed: fast. Not that the sex wasn't good and, admittedly, Danny didn't exactly have a lot of experience with other men. But he did know a thing or two about making love. There were benefits to taking your time, to playing and teasing and taking care of your partner that, Danny figured, Steve might not even be fully aware of._

_Oh, yes, there was a challenge. Getting Steve to relax, getting him to just lie there and enjoy whatever Danny chose to do to him. To get him to give up control just for a little while. To trust and let himself be loved._

“ _Let's slow this down, okay,” Danny suggested, holding Steve in place with a hand on his shoulder while scooting out from under him a little._

“ _Why?” Steve breathed against Danny's ear, hand still pulling eagerly at his shorts._

“ _Because, babe,” Danny said, then paused and pushed at Steve's shoulder until gave up with a discontent huff and rolled onto his back. “This is not a competition,” Danny added. With a kiss to Steve's unhappy, pouty mouth, Danny sat up and turned to face him, sliding a leg over his hips to straddle him where he lay._

“ _Still too many clothes,” Steve whined, his hands settling on Danny's hips, fingers plucking at the hem of his shorts._

_Danny shook his head as he shifted his weight back to settle himself on Steve's upper thighs. “It's not a race to the finish line,” he said and rested his hands on Steve's torso, bracing his lower ribs, feeling him breathe. In and out, fast and a little uneven._

“ _We go all the time in the world…” Danny added, trailing off as he pushed himself up on one hand by Steve's head before he leaned down for another, now open-mouthed kiss._

“… _to do this…” he whispered as he pulled back, smoothing the hand still lingering on Steve's torso upwards over heated skin until his fingers found a nipple. He teased and rubbed, gentle and deliberate._

“… _and this…” he breathed, craning his neck as he dragged his lower lip across a stubbled cheek, then licked and nibbled at an earlobe._

“… _and this,” he repeated again as he ground his pelvis against Steve's._

_He trailed kisses along Steve's neck until he reached the clavicle, tasting the saltiness of the ocean on his skin. Steve always tasted like the ocean._

_Danny's fingers continued to knead and play with Steve's pec and pebbling nipple at the center._

_Steve shivered, moaning Danny's name. His hands came up then and Danny felt them roam over his back, trying to pull him in closer, then sliding lower towards his ass._

_Making impatient noises, Steve tried to lift his hips to get some friction on his hardening cock._

_Moving back up again, Danny bumped his nose against his chin. “Shhh,” he hushed and then pulled back to sit more upright again. “Don't rush me,” he scolded._

_Steve made a desperate sound somewhere at the back of his throat._

_Reaching back with both hands, Danny captured Steve's and pulled them off his ass and in front of himself. Interlacing their fingers, he pushed Steve's arms up, leaned forward and pressed his hands down onto the pillow above his head._

“ _Danny,” Steve groaned urgently and Danny leaned down again, sealing his mouth over Steve's to swallow any further protests. He sucked in his lower lip, teased it and the sensitive skin below with small strokes of his tongue. When he felt Steve's whole body relax underneath him, Danny eventually pulled back a little. “You're always in such a hurry,” he observed. “Always trying to have your way.”_

“ _And you talk too much,” Steve panted out impatiently, trying to roll his hips once again._

_Danny shifted his weight forward, pressing their still joined hands deeper into the soft pillow to show Steve who was in control now. “Sometimes, talking is good,” he then said, staring deeply into Steve lust-filled eyes. “Like when I tell you how good you look like this, all spread out for me.”_

_Steve huffed out and exhale, as if the words surprised him._

_Danny shifted his pelvis, pressing his own, still clothed but growing erection against Steve's. “You look like you're ready to let go of everything,” he continued, “to forget the rest of the world and just… trust me.”_

_He squeezed the hands in his own, lowered his head to kiss Steve's lips. “Will you do that for me?” he asked. “Will you let me take care of you? Let me love you, for hours and hours?”_

_Steve's breath hitched, his hands squeezed back._

“ _Will you give up control to me and just let yourself go?”_

_Chest heaving, eyes dark with arousal, Steve nodded. “Yes,” he breathed._

_The word sent a shiver down Danny's spine. Smiling, he leaned in again, pressing his cheek against Steve's as he brought his mouth close to an ear. “Stay like this,” he instructed, squeezing the hands in his one more time to make sure Steve understood what he meant. Then he extricated his fingers from Steve's, smoothed his palms over the soft skin of the exposed insides of his arms, all the way down until he reached his chest._

_Danny stroked firmly over his pecs, teased both nipples with his thumbs. He bent low to lick and nibble at the skin above the right clavicle, nosed the side of his neck. And Steve just lay there, letting him._

_Muscles twitched occasionally with the need to move, to do something, to take back just a little bit of control; Danny could tell. But Steve only moved when Danny told him to, let Danny take his time as he explored every inch of Steve's skin, as he caressed faded hurts, discovered sensitive pleasure spots._

“ _I love you,” Danny whispered to him over and over again. “Let me show you how much I love you.”_

_And Steve let him._

  
  


— present —

  
  


One nuclear bomb can ruin your whole day. That was what it used to say on those bumper stickers.

Danny had never given the old saying much thought, but today, he couldn't help but agree. The idea of a nuclear warhead in the wrong hands on the same island as his children was terrifying. Nausea-inducing, heart attack-causing terrifying. But the fact that he and Steve were now stuck together inside his car on their seemingly endless way from the airfield back to the Palace was almost just as bad, only in a whole different way.

Danny cleared his throat. The awkward silence between them was getting to him -- even though he was certain it was only awkward silence on his part. Steve was too focussed on the case to even notice the tense atmosphere inside the small space. He was too occupied with trying to come up with reasons why only one nuke had been stolen, what the endgame was.

“Did you manage to drop off Grace at school?” Danny asked, mostly just to say _something_.

Steve's gaze quickly flickered over to him, then back to the road. His shoulders twitched, his arms stiffened. “Catherine took her,” he said.

Danny stared at him, thinking he must have heard wrong. “I'm sorry, what?” he asked, giving his head a quick shake because some things must be wrongly connected in his brain. “ _Catherine_ -Catherine?” he tried to clarify.

Steve frowned at the traffic in front of them, then shrugged jerkily. “I've been meaning to tell you. She showed up at the house this morning,” he explained with a sigh. “She's here for Kono's wedding.”

Still perplexed, Danny tried to wrap his head around the idea that Catherine was back. After all this time, just like that, she was back. Catherine Rollins was on this island. Like the nuke. Catherine was driving his daughter to school. What the hell was happning?

“Okay,” Danny finally said. “Okay. That's— that's a surprise, right?”

Steve didn't answer. Danny was pretty sure he would have said something if he had known that she was going to come back for the wedding.

“Is she staying? At the house? And—“

“I don't know,” Steve said sharply. He unhappily puffed out a breath. “We didn't get a chance to talk.”

Danny let himself sink back against the seat.

Steve clearly didn't want to talk about this right now, his one-track brain still focussed on the nuke. Danny understood, knew that this was how Steve ticked. But he couldn't accept it right now, because _Catherine_ was back. Back from Afghanistan, back in Steve's house. Maybe… like she'd never even left.

They needed to talk about this now because things between them were already complicated enough.

“She should stay at the house,” Danny heard himself saying.

“Danny,” Steve simply protested. His frown darkened but his eyes never left the road.

“It's your decision, obviously,” Danny amended. “I just— I mean, I don't mind.”

What the hell was he even saying?

“Why?” Steve asked.

Danny didn't really understand the question. “What do you mean, why?”

“I mean _why_ , Danny? Why don't you mind my ex staying at my house, with me, alone?” Steve voice was loud, his tone angry, but only on the surface. Danny could hear the pain, the fear underneath. Talking about this suddenly seemed like a really bad idea.

“Forget it, okay,” he muttered. “Do whatever you want.”

Steve sighed, exasperated. “Danny—“

“Can we not talk about this now? Please? We have a nuke to find.”

Steve gritted his teeth, blew out a breath through his nose. “Okay,” he acquiesced. Eyes still staring straight ahead, he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Just— I meant what I said last night. That I'll wait.”

Danny turned his head away, looked out of the window on his side, pretending he hadn't heard him say anything.

  
  


— 5 months ago —

  
  


“ _What are you doing?” Danny asked when he finally found Steve._

_It was early. Too early on a Sunday morning anyway. But the emptiness on the other side of the bed had torn Danny from his sleep._

_Steve was sitting at the table on the back porch, staring darkly at the screen of his laptop. Danny stopped by his chair, leaned down for his morning kiss and then shuffled over to the other basked chair across the table. Sitting down, he waved a hand at the laptop when Steve didn't answer. “So?” he prompted._

_Steve huffed out a breath. “I'm writing an email,” he said, not lifting his gaze to look at Danny._

_Arms crossed in front of himself, Danny leaned back in his chair and considered Steve with pursed lips. “And that couldn't wait?”_

_Steve scowled and hammered the backspace key about a hundred times. He sniffed his nose and squinted at the screen. “Couldn't sleep anyway.”_

_Yeah, Danny had noticed. Steve had been tossing and turning in bed, keeping Danny from dropping into a deep sleep for most of the night. He was tired as a result. But staying in bed without Steve when there was something clearly bothering him wasn't an option either._

“ _You wanna tell me what's going on?” he asked, nudging his toes against Steve's shin under the table. “Who're you writing to?”_

_Steve looked at him over the top of his screen. “Catherine,” he said and then twitched with a cringey shrug._

_Danny hummed in understanding. That explained a lot. Steve had tried to write this email many times in the past few weeks._

_They had talked about this, about telling Catherine. And Danny knew she was almost constantly on Steve's mind these days. Steve felt like he owed her some kind of explanation or apology or—_ something _, even though she was the one who had left, the one who had decided to stay in Afghanistan indefinitely._

_The real problem was that she and Steve had never really ended their relationship. It seemed like it had just dissolved itself, without either of them really saying anything definitive. The breakup was something that had just happened to them without either of them making a conscious decision about it. But Steve telling her about his relationship with Danny, that would change things between them, end what they used to have for good._

“ _She told you not to wait for her,” Danny reminded Steve, keeping his tone neutral. He knew how hard this was on him._

“ _I know.” Frowning, Steve looked back at the screen. “Doesn't really make it easier.”_

“ _You're afraid you're going to hurt her.”_

_Steve didn't answer. He didn't have to._

“ _Just tell her how you feel,” Danny suggested._

_Steve just looked at him as if he wanted to say that that was exactly why he was struggling with this._

“ _Can I help?” Danny offered._

_Steve sighed. “How about some coffee?” he asked._

  
  


— present —

  
  


The day passed in a stressful storm. Ironically (at least Danny thought so), it was Catherine who had pointed them towards Sameer Hadad, high-ranking lieutenant in Al-Qaeda, wanted terrorist, and now, probably, proud owner of a W80 nuclear warhead. Unfortunately, according to Bennett, they had been too late.

Hadad was long gone. It was a nightmare come true, even thought Danny couldn't deny that he was glad that nuke should by now be out of range of his kids.

It was late now. They'd spent the afternoon and evening trying to shut the island down and briefing other law enforcement and military agencies on the situation. Hadad had still made it off the island somehow, at least according to Steve's contacts in Naval intelligence. It had been a frustrating and exhausting day and all Danny wanted to do now was to crawl into bed and sleep for at least ten hours straight. But he couldn't quite make himself turn off the tv and get up from the couch. His body felt too heavy, his muscles too weak and the bed that waited for him was going to be too cold and too empty.

So he simply sat there, watching infomercials, letting his eyes grow heavier with every passing minute.

He was thinking about grabbing the comforter that hung over the back of the couch and lying down to sleep right there when a soft knock on the front door startled him wide awake again.

Frowning, he glanced at the digital clock on the blu ray player. It was after elven p.m.

Turning the tv off, he got up and took a quick peek through the side window to check for who it was before he opened the door.

“Catherine,” Danny said, surprised by her late night visit, maybe a bit overwhelmed by the fact that she was really here, in the flesh.

She looked just like he remembered her.

“Hey, Danny,” she said, smiling. “Can I come in?”

Not quite trusting his voice just yet, Danny simply stepped aside and gestured for her to come inside.

“Thank you.”

He closed the door behind her. “Can I— can I get you anything?” he asked after clearing his dry throat.

Catherine just stood there, rubbing her palms nervously over the sides of her thighs. She smiled again and shook her head. “I'm good, thanks.”

They looked at each other for a long moment and then, suddenly, Danny huffed out a laugh. This was so absurd, her being back here, being in his house of all places. Danny had pictured this scenario so many times, had wondered how she had react to him, how Steve would react to her, all kinds of different situations and emotions… but he hadn't pictured this moment between just the two of them.

Shaking his head, Danny slipped both hands into the pockets of his pants. “So, if you don't want a drink and — since you haven't yet — I'm guessing you're also not here to punch me in the face. What do you want?”

Catherine just shrugged. “I don't know, to be honest,” she sighed, letting her gaze wander around the room for a moment. “I was sitting alone in that house and— I don't know. It was weird being there.”

Danny nodded. He could imagine. “Steve still at the office?”

“You know him.” She half rolled her eyes, but it was more in fond understanding than annoyance. “With a nuke out there, there's no way he's getting any sleep tonight.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, thinking about the cold, empty bed again. He wondered if he would be at HQ with Steve if things were different between them. Or if Steve would have made him go home, if he had slept alone in Steve's bed… where at least everything smelled like him.

“Do you want me to leave?” Catherine suddenly asked, her quiet, careful voice cutting sharply through Danny's thoughts. “I can leave. This is— this is awkward. I should leave.”

“No, no, no. Stay,” Danny blurted out, moving in between her and the door. “It's— Okay, it's a little awkward,” he admitted. “But— It's really good to see you.”

He meant that. He had worried about her, knew that Steve had, too. Afghanistan, or at least the area where she had been living, was still a dangerous place, especially for outsiders, Americans. And the few emails she had sent every other months or so hadn't really done much to reassure anyone.

“It's good to see you, too, Danny,” Catherine said, her voice just a little unsteady.

“Come on, sit down.” Danny nodded towards the couch and then jerked a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “I'll get you a beer.”

Reluctantly, she accepted the offer. “Thanks.”

When Danny returned from the kitchen with two bottles in his hands, he found Catherine looking at the framed picture on the side table next to the couch. It was a photo of him, Steve and Grace that they'd taken on their New Year's trip to Maui. They had driven up the Haleakal ā volcano but, thanks to cloudy, drizzly weather, all the picture showed was them covered in rain gear in front of a wall of thick, white fog.

“So, how are you?” Danny asked, as much out of curiosity as to announce his presence. He set the beers down on the coffee table and sat on the other couch in front of the window. “How's the kid, how's Najib and his family?” he added when, judging by Catherine's hesitance, the first question seemed to have a difficult answer attached to it.

“They're good. They're really good,” Catherine said easily as she set the picture back down. “The area is a lot safer now than it used to be. We built a school in a neighboring village and—“ She smiled, bright and proud. “Najib wants to be a doctor.”

“That's great.” Danny grabbed his bottle, took a swig and then looked at her seriously when she didn't say anything more. “And you? How are you?”

The smile disappeared swiftly. “I'm good,” she said. Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to smile again but couldn't. “I'm— I'm here.” That part sound almost surprised, overwhelmed.

“Why did you stay in Afghanistan?”

Danny had to ask. He had always wondered why, in spite of the reasons Steve had provided. He had always wanted to hear her perspective on… the seemingly abrupt ending of her and Steve's relationship. According to Steve, it had been a long time coming and Danny wondered if Catherine had felt the same way.

Catherine sighed. She tucked her hands in between her legs to stop them from fidgeting. “I had a lot of reasons,” she said, evading the question.

“The right ones?” Danny pried.

She bit her lip and looked away. “I know I hurt Steve, Danny,” she then said, surprising him. She stared blankly at some spot in front of her, shaking her head. “I knew back then. But the thing is—“ She broke off there, pressed her lips firmly together to stop them from quivering.

Danny didn't want this. He didn't want to make her cry, force her to confront feelings that were clearly painful.

He leaned forward and put a hand on her knee, gave it a squeeze. “I'm sorry, Catherine, I—“

“I've always loved Steve more than he's loved me,” she said, her voice shaky, close to breaking. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I always knew I wasn't the one for him. And that hurt. And I couldn't keep doing that to myself. I needed to get away to figure out if what we had, what he could give me was going to be… enough.

“And I also wanted him to have a chance to find someone he could love more. And—“ she shrugged, put one of her hands on top of Danny's. “He did.”

“Catherine—“ Danny said, not sure how to respond to that. Because, right now, he felt like Steve deserved so much better than him.

“It's okay.” She dismissed his concern with a shake of her head and pulled her hand away. Danny did the same. “I'll be fine,” she added, inching her chin up as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I'm sorry.”

Catherine huffed out a hollow sounding laugh at his apology. “It's not your fault.”

Danny scoffed. He couldn't help but think that if it wasn't for him, maybe Steve and Catherine would have been able to work things out between them, that they could have found a way to be happy together. Maybe they weren't perfect for each other, but at least Steve would have been happier than he was right now.

Catherine frowned at his expression. “What?” she asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him when he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“What's going on between you two?” Catherine asked but then immediately shook her head, waving her hands dismissively in front of herself. “It— It's none of my business. You don't have to— Forget I asked.”

“My brother, Matt, he was murdered,” Danny said. He wasn't sure why he was telling her this. The words just fell from his mouth. Maybe is was because he felt like he owed her an explanation for how he and Steve had ended up like this and why he was hurting the person she loved.

Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. “I'm so sorry, Danny,” she said quietly.

“I killed the man who did it. I put a bullet in his head.” He almost laughed then. Wasn't it funny how he could just say something like that out loud without fearing any consequences?

Catherine didn't react. If she was horrified by the confession then she didn't let it show. At least not in any way Danny could see. A moment passed before she gave a small nod. “Does Steve know?”

Danny shrugged, couldn't stop the bitter laugh that bubbled up in his chest this time. “Everyone knows.” He rolled his eyes, because the joke never stopped being funny. He'd killed someone in cold blood and everyone knew and yet, here he was, in his living room, having a beer and a conversation with a friend. It was fucking hilarious.

“Everyone?” Catherine asked.

“I was arrested, but Steve— he somehow got me off,” Danny explained. He couldn't stop that glimmer of bitterness and contempt he felt for what Steve had done from seeping into the tone of his voice. Clearing his throat, trying to keep his tone more neutral, he started telling Catherine everything. He told her about what had happened to Matt. About how he had been arrested in front of Grace. How Alexander had threatened to go after Steve, too. How he had singed the waiver and had been taken to a Colombian prison. And how Alexander had been on Reyes' payroll and how Steve had used that information to get the charges dropped.

It felt good to tell all this to someone who he knew he could trust but hadn't been involved in the entire mess.

As he finished recounting what had happened, Danny picked his beer back up and took a long drink.

Catherine watched him. She hadn't said a word, hadn't tried to interrupt or comment. She had just listened and Danny was grateful for that.

“You know what the worst part is?” he asked and leaned forward, propping his arms up on this thighs. “Reyes— He had two kids. Boys, about Grace's age.” Danny paused. His hands were suddenly shaking. He had never even told Steve about this. He looked up, met Catherine's gaze. “I took their father from them. Those boys have to grow up without their father now and it's my fault. I— I just can't live with that. I can't just go on and pretend that I shouldn't be in prison for that.” He stopped to take a painful breath, inhaling deep just to make sure his squeezing lungs were still functioning.

“And now Rachel tells me that Charlie is my kid,” he then added, raking a hand through his hair. “All because he has this potentially fatal genetic disease and I just— I wanna be here for him. I wanna be in his life. I want him to know me.” The words were rushing out of his mouth now without a filter. And Danny just let them, because he needed to get all this out, say it out loud, admit it to himself.

“I want to be here for Grace and for Steve, too. But at the same time, I feel like I don't deserve any of it, like I don't deserve them. And I can't go to prison and I can't be here and I can't— I can't not be here. I'm all out of options and I just don't know how to go on.”

He huffed out a breath, then another, before he realized he was done. This was it.

This strange state of in-between, feeling like he was poised on this edge, caught in this split second where all he had to do was make a choice about what happened next. But there were no options to choose from, only impossibilities.

“Danny—” Catherine said carefully. “Have you talked to someone about this? About how you feel?”

Her words floated around in his head for a moment before they aligned themselves in order, forming a sentence, a question that registered, that he understood. “I—“ he started, then swallowed against the lump that had formed at the back of his throat. “They know I feel guilty for what I've done.”

“Who? Steve?” she tried to clarify.

Danny nodded. “And Kono. Chin and Lou. They've all been there for me after I killed Reyes.”

Catherine cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. “And after the arrest?” she asked.

Danny looked away, down at the bottle in his hands. “Everybody was so happy I was back…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Everybody. Except— you?”

Nodding, Danny closed his eyes as memories from that day started swirling inside his head.

Steve had waited for him at the airport. He had been standing in the middle of the airfield. And when Danny had seen him, for just a moment, he had forgotten about everything. About Reyes, about Colombia, about the CIA. All that had mattered was Steve and that barely-there smile on his face that was supposed to hide his relief.

But the moment had passed and had left an emptiness in its wake that was still there today.

“Seeing them again was—“ Danny tried to explain but found that he couldn't put that moment into words, so he just shrugged. “There's a big part of me that thinks I should be in prison for what I've done. I was even relieved when they took me there.” He sighed, started rubbing at the label of his bottle when irritation wormed its way into the feeling of helplessness that had taken a hold of him. “I don't know if I'm more angry at Steve for getting me out, or at myself for feeling this way.”

“What about the part of you that doesn't think you should be in prison?”

“That part wants to see Grace grow up,” he said, ignoring the stinging in his eyes at the thought. “And now Charlie, too. And I want—“ Danny clamped his mouth shut, bit the inside of his bottom lip and made himself look Catherine in the eye. “I promised Steve I'd always be here for him. That I wouldn't leave.”

She smiled sadly and Danny could see in her eyes how much that meant to her. How much she still loved Steve.

“Maybe it's— it's a sign, that you're back now,” Danny heard himself saying. His heart ached. “You can—”

“No, Danny,” Catherine interrupted. She shook her head resolutely. “He needs _you_.”

“You love him. And he still loves you,” Danny pointed out.

“I can't make him happy.”

“Neither can I,” Danny said. And wasn't it messed up? How he and Catherine both loved him but neither of them was able to even give him a decent shot at happiness. “He already feels like I gave up on us when I signed the extradition papers.”

“But he didn't give up on _you_. He got _you_ back.”

Danny didn't miss the hurt, the self-deprecation in her voice. He understood. She felt like Steve had given up on her. Because he hadn't gotten her back.

“He wanted to go after you,” Danny said quietly, wanting to ease the pain he could see in her glistening eyes, just a little bit. And it was the truth. Those first days and weeks, Steve had wanted nothing more than to go back to Afghanistan to help find the kid, make sure Catherine was safe. “The situation was just—“

“I waited for him to come get me,” Catherine cut in. “After I brought Najib back to the village, I waited.” She let out a sad, hollow sounding laugh, rolled her eyes at herself. “I did everything I could to push him away. But I still pictured him just showing up there to get me back.” She paused. “But then he sent me that email and…” She left the sentence hanging, shrugged her shoulders jerkily, like her pain didn't matter.

“You have to fight for what you have,” she then said. “All that matters is that you're here and that you got second chance.”

“I don't know what to do with it,” Danny admitted helplessly. “I don't feel like I deserve it.”

Catherine sighed. “Have you ever tried talking to someone who can be objective about everything? To get an outside perspective? Maybe talking to someone professional can help you figure out how to go on.”

“I used to talk to the HPD grief counselor,” Danny told her, wondering if things would be any different if he was still seeing Dr. Palmer. He couldn't imagine how, though. He still would have killed the father of two innocent kids. There was nothing anyone could say to make that okay. “I stopped seeing her,” he added.

“Why?”

Danny shrugged. “Don't know. I guess it was easier to ignore everything than face it. Things were good for a while.” Before he had found out about the family he had destroyed.

“But not anymore,” Catherine said.

“Not anymore,” Danny agreed. Not since he'd walked off that plane.

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Catherine slept on Danny's couch that night. She made coffee in the morning and left without drinking a cup herself, saying she was going to head over to Steve's house, get her stuff and check into a hotel. She was going to figure out what to do next after the wedding.

“I'll see you at the reception,” she said before she disappeared through the front door. Danny stared after her with sleep-crusted eyes for a dumbfounded moment.

Right, the wedding. Kono and Adam's wedding. That was today.

At least Chin had solved the Goro Shyoma mystery. He hadn't really gone into details yesterday, between nukes and terrorists, but the gist of it was that Kono and Adam would have to buy their freedom from the Yakuza… with everything they owned. God, Danny really hoped they would go all out for the wedding, blow a shit-ton of money on the celebration of the supposedly best day of their lives — just to spite the evil old man.

Rubbing at his eyes, Danny shuffled his way over to the kitchen and quickly found out that Catherine's coffee to water ratio was off by about five scoops. He would probably never sleep again.

Breakfast seemed like a bad idea after burning away most of his stomach lining, so Danny headed back to the bedroom to dig up his tux… and then realized that it was still at Steve's. Because Steve had had both their tuxes dry cleaned after Aunt Deb's wedding and Danny had never bothered to take his back to his house.

Fantastic.

He stood there, in his bedroom, staring at his open closet, not sure what to do next. It was early, still hours until the ceremony started and there was nothing to do. Just… thinking. And thinking didn't seem very appealing to Danny right now. As good as it had felt to get everything out in the open, say certain things out loud, he still felt exhausted and drained from his talk with Catherine last night. But at least some things were clearer now, put into some kind of order, not just chaos and spiraling thoughts — which, really, didn't change anything at all.

“ _You know, Mr. Reyes had a family.”_

Danny could still hear Alexander's voice inside his head as if the guy was standing right next to him.

“ _Two young boys, just about the same age as your daughter.”_

That had been the moment when something inside him had just… disintegrated, leaving a hole that he only knew one way how to fill. But he couldn't go back in time and give two little boys their dad back, couldn't do anything at all to make this right again. Couldn't even go to prison for it.

The ringing of his phone interrupted Danny's thoughts. He blinked at the closet a couple of times, clearing his head and then hurried over to the nightstand where his phone was still charging.

“Williams,” he said, answering the call form the unfamiliar number.

“ _Mr. Williams, this is Patricia Martin from Shriners Hospital.”_

Danny froze. That was his son's hospital calling. Was there something wrong with Charlie? Had something happened to him?

“Yes?” was all he managed to say.

“ _Dr. Bellrose asked me to inform you that the test results are back from the lab and that they have identified you as the better match for the bone marrow transplant.”_

Shit. Danny plopped down on the bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him as his brain worked to catch up. He was the better match. He was Charlie's chance to live.

A new kind of responsibility seemed to settle on his shoulders. Danny felt it like a physical weight, making him bend, sag where he sat.

But for the very first time, he was really, truly glad and grateful not to be sitting in a prison cell in Colombia right now, thousands of miles away and useless to help his son.

“ _Mr. Williams?”_ Patricia asked.

Danny remembered her from two days ago. She had a kind, round face, short, curly hair and a dinosaur on her name tag.

Charlie knew her better than he knew him.

“I'm here,” Danny croaked into the phone.

Patricia sighed. _“I know this is a lot to take in, Mr. Williams,”_ she said calmly. _“I'm sure you have a lot of questions, so I would like to schedule an appointment for you with Dr. Bellrose. You will also need a full workup to ensure you're healthy and able to safely go through the harvesting process.”_

“Okay, yeah,” Danny answered. He suddenly had tons of questions.

“ _How does Monday at nine sound?”_ Patricia asked.

It was Saturday today. “I— Isn't that a little late?” Danny felt a vague sense of panic rising inside him. Charlie was sick, didn't he need help right away? “I can come in today,” he offered.

“ _That's not necessary, Mr. Williams,”_ Patricia assured softly. _“Your son is doing good at the moment, so there's no need to rush anything.”_

Danny wanted to yell at her and all her patience, because his son was still sick, no matter how good he was doing right now. His son had this disease Danny didn't understand and it could kill him. But by some miracle, Danny was here, was able to do this thing and help his kid and he was not going to let the doctors or anyone else mess this up, drag things out unnecessarily until something happened. Until it was too late.

“No need to rush anything?” Danny snapped at her. “What if he gets sick, I mean, really sick?”

He had read on the internet that a bone marrow transplant only worked when the patient was not sick, not affected by the disease. So if Charlie got sick before they could do this, there would be treatments like chemo therapy and other things he would have to go through before they could do the transplant and… god, Danny just didn't want Charlie to suffer through anything like that unnecessarily. He just wanted to do something, now that he knew he could.

“ _Mr. Williams, the doctor will answer all of your questions,”_ Patricia answered diplomatically.

Danny sighed. This wasn't fair to her. She was only the messenger. “Yeah, yeah, I'm— I'm sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was freaking out, he knew that, and probably for no good reason. The doctors should know what they were doing but… These were the doctors Rachel had chosen, Rachel trusted with their son's life. Danny had had no say in the matter up until now and he still felt like none of what was going on was really in his hands -- even though he was the one who could give Charlie his bone marrow. He was the one who could save his life. He was the kid's father. He felt like he should have some sort of say in all this.

“ _That's okay,”_ Patricia said kindly. _“So, Monday at nine?”_

“I'll be there,” Danny told her. He would have a lot of questions for the doctor.

  
  


— 4 months ago —

  
  


_It was a little after five in the afternoon when Danny walked into Steve's house. He had spent most of his Saturday with Grace at the Ala Moana Center, trying to help her find a birthday present for her mom. The whole day was like a deja vu since they had already been through this torturous process not too long ago when they'd been looking for Christmas presents. Today, Grace had eventually decided on a book; some corny romance novel that she probably wanted to read herself._

_Danny had just grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge when he heard voices from outside. A moment later, Steve and his juvenile delinquent, Nahele, came in, both covered in dirt and motor oil. Last week, they had successfully located all the parts of the Marquis the kid had sold. And now Steve was making him help put the car back together again as he had promised… or rather threatened._

_Steve greeted Danny with a big grin when he spotted him by the fridge. “Hey, babe, you're early!” he said and ducked down for a quick kiss._

_Danny allowed it but tried to avoid any other contact. “And you're greasy,” he commented._

“ _I'll go wash up.”_

_And with that, Steve disappeared into the living room and then upstairs. Danny was left with the kid he barely knew. The kid who was staring wide-eyed at him._

_God, Steven, manners! Danny sighed._

“ _Hey,” he said and waved his beer-free hand awkwardly._

“ _D—Detective,” Nahele stuttered._

“ _You can call me Danny,” he offered and then narrowed his eyes at him. “Unless you're planning on dating my daughter,” he amended. Anyone just looking at Grace the wrong way would address him as Sir… Once, to apologize, before moving to another country._

“ _I—“ The kid was still staring at him with eyes wide as saucers._

“ _Think, before you speak,” Danny warned._

“ _I—“_

_Okay, he was officially stuck. “You can breathe,” Danny told him but Nahele just continued to stare. “Please breathe,” he insisted, rolling his hand as he himself took a deep inhale to demonstrate. The kid stared at him some more and then breathed noisily to show he was getting with the program._

“ _Good,” Danny said, nodding. “Now stop staring at me.”_

“ _I— I'm not,” Nahele claimed, averting his gaze to the floor. “I'm sorry,“ he added with a shrug._

_Danny frowned at him. Then he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with juice from the fridge. “You all right?” he asked, holding it out to Nahele. “Any fumes in that garage I should be worried about?”_

“ _No,” the kid said, accepting the glass. “I just—“ He shrugged uncomfortably, cheeks blushing. “I didn't know,” he added with a meaningful, pointed look._

_Ah. The kiss. Probably not what he had expected._

“ _You got a problem with it?” Danny asked neutrally._

_Nahele answered with a vehement shake of his head. “No, no. I— No,” he stuttered._

“ _Good.” Danny patted his shoulder encouragingly. “Glad we cleared that up.”_

_He took a sip from his beer, Nahele took a sip of juice. They stared at each other in awkward silence._

“ _So, you guys making any progress on that piece of junk,” Danny asked after he took another drink from the bottle._

_Nahele perked up at that. “Tires are back on, the door's fixed, too. Just some work on the engine left to do,” he reported, sounding proud. He clearly didn't consider this whole auto shop with Commander Steve to be an actual punishment. Which, really, was great. The kid had been through a lot. And after weeks or months alone on the streets, he probably enjoyed the attention Steve was giving him._

“ _We should have her running by next weekend,” Nahele added. The sudden distinct lack of enthusiasm in the statement confirmed Danny's suspicions. Steve wouldn't just abandon the kid after they'd fixed the car. The big old sap had already grown attached but Nahele didn't know that, probably figured that as soon the car was fixed, Steve would break off all contact._

_Danny decided to offer a little reassurance._

“ _Great,” he said sarcastically and then leaned in a little and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You know, just between you and me, I was kinda hoping that death trap was done for good. That thing keeps breaking down. I swear to you, it's never worked for more than a couple weeks. So don't be surprised if the big guy comes knocking on your door asking for help, cause I sure as hell am not gonna go anywhere near that thing.”_

_A big smile lit up the kid's face. “I wouldn't mind,” he said, clearly trying to reign in his excitement._

“ _No? Okay, good. I'm gonna hold you to that,” Danny told him seriously with a finger pointed at his chest. “Now, you look like you could eat. Why don't you go get cleaned up a little and I order some food. I think there's a game on in fifteen.”_

_Wide-eyed again, Nahele nodded. “Sounds good.”_

“ _Okay.” Danny set his beer on the counter and walked to the door. “Downstairs bathroom is right through there,” he said, pointing to the door. “I'll go get you a clean shirt.”_

_With that, Danny headed upstairs and into the bedroom. As he grabbed one of Steve's clean t-shirts from the closet, Steve came out of the bathroom, freshly showered and with a towel wrapped around his waist._

“ _Hmm,” Danny hummed appreciatively from the side, making him jump a little, “you're cleaner.”_

“ _Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Steve groused._

_Danny grinned and held up the shirt he'd pulled from the closet. “I invited your project for dinner.”_

“ _Yeah?” Steve asked. He seemed happily surprised._

“ _Yeah, well, he's been forced to work on that heap of junk all day. He's earned it.”_

“ _He has,” Steve agreed. Staring absently at the shirt in Danny's hand, he sighed. “He's a good kid.”_

“ _I'm sure he is,” Danny said, keeping his tone casual. “He's gonna need a little guidance, though. Someone to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't run away again, keeps up with his school work…” he trailed off. There was more, though. “But most importantly, after losing his mother, he needs someone who gets what he's going through. Someone who can relate, who understands.”_

_Steve looked at Danny as if he was about to pretend that he hadn't already adopted the kid. And it hit Danny right then. He didn't have to say a single word. Steve didn't need any of this pointed out to him. He knew, better than anyone. He used to be that kid. A little lost and very much alone. And Steve might not even be aware of it but Danny knew he was going to do anything and everything to make sure Nahele was going to be okay._

“ _Who's the half-baked cookie fixing broken toys now, huh?” Steve asked challenging._

_Danny laughed. “I'm not fixing anything, babe,” he said, grabbing the front of the towel and pulling Steve close. “I'm just letting you know that I think that what you're doing for this kid is very…” Pushing up on his toes, Danny pulled Steve down for a kiss. “…remarkable,” he finished after._

“ _You have a strange way of expressing yourself sometimes.”_

  
  


— present —

  
  


Danny stood in front of Steve's house, ringing the door bell again. Like a stranger.

Steve looked surprised when he opened the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Danny echoed, staring. Steve was already in his tux and would have looked absurdly handsome if it wasn't for the exhaustion written all over his face and the dullness in his eyes. The stupid idiot had clearly been up all night, looking for Hadad, probably hadn't even taken a break for a nap on the couch in his office. The fact that he was here now, ready for the wedding, was a miracle as far as Danny was concerned.

“I— My suit is still here,” Danny said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the stairs. “I gotta— You mind if I go grab it? Get changed here? I'll be quick.”

Steve smiled. It looked strained but honest. He stepped aside a little and jerked his head to prompt Danny to come inside. “Take as much time as you need.”

Danny nodded his thanks and headed upstairs quickly. He grabbed the suit bag holding his tuxedo from the wall closet and took it into the bedroom. Entering the room, he noticed that the door to the bathroom stood open and that everything in here smelled like Steve's body wash and shampoo. The scents were familiar and comforting, like everything else in this room… The bed was made and looked cold, but all Danny suddenly wanted to do was crawl under the covers and breathe in Steve and pretend everything was okay.

He cleared his head with a jerky shake and then carefully laid out the suit bag on the bed. He got dressed as quickly as he could manage, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and leaving the the jacket off. It was too warm to wear it longer than absolutely necessary.

Steve wasn't in the living room when Danny came back downstairs. Not wanting to just leave without saying anything, Danny went looking for him. For a moment, he thought that Steve maybe had already left. There was no sign of him anywhere.

Just as Danny wanted to go check in the garage, he spotted him out in the backyard. Steve was standing by the pair of chairs all the way down by the water, looking out into the ocean.

Danny was out on the back porch before he realized what he was doing. But even then, he kept walking. This stupid case had Steve all wound up tight and tense and Danny needed to do something to at least try and ease the heavy weight of responsibility Steve had loaded onto his shoulders, couldn't just leave him alone here like this. If he did, Danny wasn't sure Steve would make it to the wedding after all.

Arriving by the chairs, Danny squinted up at him, taking in his dark expression. “Yo. What's up? You ready?” he asked casually, propping up his arms on the backrest of one of the chairs.

Steve continued to stare aimlessly ahead. He puffed out a breath. “Catherine spoke to Naval Intel. It's been radio silence on Hadad.”

Danny could hear it, loud and clear, the frustration and anger simmering just under the surface. The guy got away and Steve wasn't handling it very well, wasn't accepting it, still thought there was something he could do to get him.

“Yeah, well, look.” Danny straightened, gestured out to the ocean in front of them. “We pinged his cell phone. Last signal we got was three miles out. That was yesterday. Navy did a grid search. The guy is gone, Steve.”

“We locked this island down, okay,” Steve insisted. “We locked this entire island down. How did he get out? How did he get past us?”

“I—I don't know. I don't know,” Danny muttered. Because, okay, Steve had a point there. Hadad was a freaking magician or something. Poof, gone. It didn't make a whole lot of sense. But however the guy had gotten off the island, it was done. He was no longer on their turf, no longer their responsibility. There was nothing else they could have done to stop him from disappearing with that nuke. But that didn't change the fact that Steve was marking this down as some kind of personal failure.

Ironic, how someone could take potential mass murder so personally. But that was Steve. And Steve was an oxymoron in more ways than Danny could count.

“But every intelligence agency on the planet of Earth is looking for this guy. Okay? And when they find him, we will have our moment with him, all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we just— can we just take this— this time right now to be happy about something. The fact that we got Bennett and his crew,” Danny suggested, because this was so Steve, he got so easily caught up in the losses sometimes that he completely blanked out the good they accomplished. “Can we take that win?”

“Yeah. Let's take the win,” Steve said, his voice still tight. And Danny realized then that he was fighting a futile battle here. Trying to get through Steve's thick skull sometimes felt like trying to scratch your way through a brick wall with blunt fingernails. That stubborn head of his was like Fort Knox. And given everything that was going on between them right now, Danny maybe shouldn't keep pressing the issue. Steve wasn't going to lower his walls for him right now. He wasn't going to let Danny in and let him alter his perspective, make him see the good side of this.

The realization of how far they had drifted apart stung and Danny suddenly felt the need to get out of the situation. “Yeah? Okay, good,” he said, almost dismissively. “I'm gonna go get Grace. She's getting ready over at Rachel's,” he explained, already walking away. “I'll see you at the wedding.”

“Hey, listen,” Steve called, stopping Danny in his tracks, “if things are weird with you and Rachel, or if Grace is still mad— I can go get her. It's not a problem.”

It was like flipping a goddamn switch. All it took was mentioning Grace and Steve was propelled right out of his obsessive thoughts about the nuke and Hadad. Just like that, she was the most important thing in his world. And damn, if that didn't take Danny's breath away every time it happened.

“No, no, no. Nothing, um, nothing's weird with Rachel,” he managed to get out, “and Grace talked to me on the phone for a whole minute this morning. It'll be fine.”

Steve looked unconvinced. And, okay, things with Rachel were beyond weird and Grace was still pissed at him. But it was nothing Danny couldn't handle.

“If I hurry, I might even get a chance to say hi to Charlie before his nap.”

“Hey, speaking of your son, how is Charlie?” Steve asked. And suddenly there was this softness in his voice, this small, fond smile tugging at his lips and Danny could tell just how in love Steve already was with this kid that wasn't his and who he had seen maybe twice in his life.

It was unbelievable how he managed to keep that gigantic heart of his hidden so well most of the time.

“How's he doing? What are the doctors saying?”

“Uh, I'm-I'm the better match for the bone marrow,” Danny blurted out, only realizing now how much he had wanted to tell Steve since finding out. “You know, procedure's gonna be soon… and— and Charlie's doing good, he's okay.”

“Well, that's great news, Danny.” Steve looked so relieved.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, feeling like some of that relief rubbed off on him. It really was good news. Charlie was sick but there was a treatment option and Danny could do something to help. It was good. Charlie would be okay and then… then Danny would continue to take care of him. He would figure his shit out and take care of the kid.

“I'm making Rachel tell him that I'm his father. I'm sticking to that,” he said.

Steve looked at him. A shadow of something flickered across his face. It looked a lot like sadness, maybe fear. “I'm proud of you, Danny,” he said sincerely.

The comment, combined with the expression on Steve's face, sent a shiver of unease down Danny's spine. “Proud of me? I'm not doing anything,” he said and then his mouth took over. “Look, I got the easy part. I go in there, I'm in and out in a couple hours. This kid's got, uh, some kind of recovery, you know? I'd trade places with him in two seconds.”

Danny ran out of things to say then. Steve just looked at him.

“That's not what I meant,” he said after a beat. And yeah, Danny knew. Steve wasn't talking about some medical procedure, having a gigantic needle shoved into his bones. This was about their conversation, about their fight. About Steve being worried and about Danny giving up.

“I'm sorry for what I said that night,” Steve added.

Danny shook his head, averting his gaze to the ground. “No, don't be. I think I needed to hear it. You weren't wrong.” He looked back up to meet Steve eyes, took the apology he saw there in stride. “If I want to be in Charlie's life then I have to deal with this thing with Reyes. I know that now.”

Danny just didn't know how.

“That's good, Danny. I think that's really good. I—“

Whatever else Steve wanted to say got cut off by the ringing of his phone. He shot an apologetic look to Danny before he answered the call.

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


“This is ridiculous,” Danny all but yelled at Steve to make himself heard. Ridiculous was the understatement of the century, though. Insane was what this was. Absolutely insane. They were on a fucking shopping trolley with an active nuke set to go off in less than twenty-seven minutes and driving in the wrong direction. “You know there's a military team standing by to defuse this thing, right?”

“Danny, Pearl Harbor is thirty minutes away, all right,” Steve yelled back at him from the driver's seat, thankfully not taking his eyes off the road. “By the time we get there, that thing will have gone off.”

“Great,” Danny muttered, hanging on for dear life. This stupid trolley wasn't supposed to ever go this fast. “So we're just gonna put it on a helicopter and drop it into the ocean? That sounds like really stupid idea.”

“It's the only option we have right now,” Steve insisted loudly. “And _we_ are not doing anything, anyway.”

Danny stared stupidly at the back of Steve's head for a split second as the true meaning of his words sunk in. “Whoa, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he then yelled. Hanging on to the boxy thing holding the nuke and not giving a shit about his fear of radiation, Danny made his way over to Steve. “You're not doing this alone,” he told him, crouching down next to the driver's seat. “You— you can't. You can't fly the thing and drop the bomb at the same time. You're insane!”

Steve shot him a quick look. “Think about Charlie, Danny.”

“Think— think about Charlie?“ Danny blurted out before he realized what _think about Charlie_ really meant. _Think about Charlie_ meant, your kid needs you to live. _Think about Charlie_ meant that this was going to get dangerous. “What is this, some kind of suicide mission?” Danny asked, grabbing Steve's arm. “Is there something you're not telling me?”

Steve blew out a breath, clearly annoyed by having to explain himself in this situation, but hey, tough. Danny needed to know. “There's nothing I'm not telling you, Danny, but it's a nuke and it's going off in less than thirty minutes and you're not getting on a helicopter with it. Not when your kid needs you.”

It made sense. Shit, it made a lot of sense. And Charlie was still just a kid.

“You're doing this?” Danny asked, quieter.

Steve slanted him another look. _Somebody's got to._

Yeah, Danny got that. But why did it always have to be him?

He squeezed Steve's arm where he was still hanging on to him. “If you're getting on that chopper, you gotta promise me that you'll come back.”

Steve, the idiot, simply flashed him a stupid, cocky grin. And then they were off the asphalt and on grass. Catherine's blue Corvette pulled up by Kamekona's shrimp truck and Steve brought the trolley to a halt behind it.

The helicopter was waiting for them, rotors spinning. Kamekona, already wearing his suit for the wedding, came over to meet them. “She's ready to go, bruddah,” the big guy announced in a way of greeting as Danny and Steve moved into position to lift the nuke out of its wooden casing.

“Thanks,” Steve acknowledged tightly.

And then Danny's hands were on the bomb and for a second he almost jerked away when a thought flashed through his brain. Because, hey, they hadn't even been allowed on the plane because of the lingering radiation and now he was touching the goddam nuke with his bare hands? What if this was messing him up in some way? What if this was doing something to his bone marrow?

But then Steve started lifting on his side and Danny's fingers almost automatically moved and curled themselves around the thing, because Steve knew what he was doing. He wouldn't let him do anything that could hurt Charlie's chances at recovery. Deep down, on some basic level, Danny knew that. He trusted Steve with this.

Kono and Catherine came running over to meet them.

“Still like to know why you need my…” The big guy paused when he saw the device as Danny and Steve hoisted it up. “—bird. Is that a…”

“W80 nuke,” Kono told Kamekona as he stared at them.

“I was gonna say bomb, but that's even worse.”

Yup, no argument from Danny there.

“Oh, no. You're not gonna put that on my chopper, man. It's bad for business.”

Bad for business? “You're not gonna have a business if we don't put this thing on your chopper, okay,” Danny hissed as he and Steve carefully carried the nuke off the trolley. Really, Kamekona's priorities were so far off sometimes.

“What, be careful, man, whoa, whoa, whoa,” he continued to freak out, following Danny and Steve to the helicopter. Kono and Catherine were close behind them.

They lifted the nuke into the back, gently setting it down in the legroom. When they had the warhead tucked in as safely as possible, Danny hesitated, his leg itching to just climb up there and do this with Steve -- because how could he not? It felt wrong to just stay here and watch.

It was the parking lot and Pelham all over again. Only this time, Danny made a conscious choice. He was choosing his son. Like Steve wanted him to. Like a father was supposed to.

“I need someone to secure the nuke,” Steve yelled over the noise of the spinning rotor blades.

“You got it,” Kono said without hesitation, giving a firm nod.

“No, I'll do it,” Catherine cut in, stepping closer to the open door at the back where Danny still stood.

Kono reached out to stop her but Catherine shook her head at her. “It's your wedding day, Kono,” she insisted.

“There's not gonna be a wedding if this goes sideways.”

“Guys!” Steve yelled, already half inside the cockpit. Catherine didn't hesitate to climb into the back, securing the nuke as best as she could.

Kono snatched Danny's shirt sleeve and tugged at it, pulling him back, away from the chopper.

Danny stumbled as he continued to stare at the cockpit, not taking his eyes off Steve as he pulled the headphones on and started flipping switches. The rotors sped up, blasting air and sand in Danny's and Kono's faces. Danny shielded his eyes as best as he could without looking away. And then the chopper was taking off and— shit, all Danny could think was that this was a mistake, that he should be up there with Steve.

Kono's warm hand curled around his. “They'll be fine,” she said and Danny wanted to laugh, hysterically, because this was insane. But then Kono added, “I got HQ,” and then there was Steve's voice.

“ _All right, we're airborne. How far offshore do we need to be?”_

Danny blinked at the cell phone in Kono's hand. Something in his brain clicked and then the tinny, far off sounding voice suddenly made sense. She had the call with HQ on speaker. Chin and Lou were in contact with the chopper from there.

Okay, good. This was good. Danny could tell them to yell at Steve if he started to do something stupid.

“ _Well, according to Los Alamos, you gotta dump that thing fifty miles off shore and at a depth of 2,000 feet to neutralize any threat of radiation,”_ Chin's voice came through the phone, much clearer than Steve's. Because he was at the Palace and not on a chopper with a nuke.

Danny squeezed Kono's hand tight, balled his other hand to a fist.

“ _Okay, we can do that,”_ Catherine confirmed.

“ _Yeah, but there's a tricky part,”_ Lou announced. And, god, of course there was a tricky part. Of course there was something. There was always something. _“Based on the mass of the nuke and the rate that it sinks, you gonna have to drop that package into the water with no less than two minutes to spare on that timer. That might not give you enough time to get out of the blast zone.”_

“ _Copy that,”_ Steve said, all calm and accepting. And Danny wanted to scream at him, ask him if he had known or expected this. If this was the reason why he had told Danny not to get on the chopper with him — because the chopper could get caught in the blast and go down and he could die.

But Danny just stood there, waited and stared into the distance where the black dot had disappeared from view moments ago.

Minutes passed, agonizingly slow, stretching like a piece of soft gum. Danny kept staring at the horizon, kept squeezing Kono's hand.

“ _We got two thirty left on the clock,”_ Catherine's voice suddenly came over the phone, startling him.

“ _Okay, we're almost at the fifty mile mark,”_ Steve said, just as calm as Catherine had spoken. _“You ready?”_

“ _Ready,”_ Catherine confirmed.

There was a pause.

“ _All right, now, Cath, now!”_

Silence.

“ _It's done. Go!”_ Catherine shouted a little breathlessly.

And then there was silence again. And nothing happened. The black dot didn't reappear. And Danny couldn't help it, he pictured himself standing here hours later, in the dark, with Kono still holding his hand. Still waiting but the helicopter never came back.

They'd never find them out there.

Suddenly, it looked like a cloud puffed up from the ocean, like steam shooting up from an old train engine. Then there was a low grumble, far off in the distance, like thunder.

Danny stared. He still couldn't see the tiny black dot.

“Chin,” Kono called next to him, a hint of panic in her voice. “You still there? Are they okay? We're not hearing anything.”

“ _Neither are we. Comms are down,”_ he informed them.

Danny felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, did that mean—

“ _Probably just interference from the blast wave,”_ Chin added casually. Danny wanted to strangle him.

“By the way, that was supposed to happen, right?” Kono hedged skeptically. “I mean, that cloud I'm looking at right now, that's not gonna float over here and rain radiation down on all of us, right?”

“ _Probably not,”_ was Chin's not at all reassuring answer.

“ _We're heading over to you guys,”_ Lou said and then the line went dead.

Danny tried to focus on breathing because he still couldn't see anything but almost perfectly clear blue sky and, god, his tie was suddenly strangling him. He pulled his hand out of Kono's and tore at the thing, opening a button at the top of his shirt because, man, whoever had designed this probably had a very delicate neck and—

“There, Danny!” Kono suddenly squeaked and, shit, he hadn't even noticed that he had stopped staring at the sky. His eyes snapped back up and there it was, the black little dot, moving closer. And then there was the sound of rotor blades and his own hysterical, relieved laughter.

“Oh, thank god,” he babbled, taking hiccuping breaths as the helicopter came closer and closer. And then it landed right in front of him and Kono. And Danny could see Steve, all concentrated on bringing the chopper down easy. Catherine was sitting next to him, smiling brightly, a hand already on the door.

A blast of wind and sand kicked up by the chopper made Danny jerk his head to the side instinctively. When the prickle against his skin lessened, he looked again and Catherine was already slamming the door on her side shut. The spinning of the rotor blades was winding down and then there was Steve and all Danny could do was stare at him.

Steve was squinting against the sun as he and Catherine came walking towards Danny and Kono. Maybe he was grinning, too, all smug and proud that his stupid plan to throw a nuke into the ocean had actually worked.

Danny wanted to yell at him. For a really long time.

But Steve was suddenly standing right in front of him and Danny couldn't get out a single word, because he felt like he was breathing through a straw again. His eyes prickled. His numb hands started shaking.

Steve ducked his head, curled a warm, familiar hand around Danny's neck and then pressed their foreheads together. “Told you I'd come back,” he said quietly.

Danny closed his eyes and clawed his fingers into the lapels of Steve's suit jacket as he inhaled a sharp breath. “No, you didn't. You just grinned, you stupid idiot,” he muttered, pressing his fisted hands into Steve's chest to push him back. But Steve held him where he was, held on tight. And only after Danny had stopped his halfhearted struggle, after he'd huffed out a breath in resigned acceptance, Steve pulled away. And suddenly, Danny didn't want him to.

The hand on his neck shifted to his shoulder as Steve turned away. It lingered there for a moment, heavy and reassuring. But then Kono was there, with a smile brighter than the sun, and Steve couldn't help but let go and hug her back as she wrapped both her arms around him, thanking him for saving her wedding.

Catherine stood right next to them. Smiling, Danny reached out, touched her arm lightly. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Catherine just rolled her eyes at him, laughing brightly. Danny figured she was riding some kind of adrenaline rush.

“Thanks, my bruddahs and sistahs,” Kamekona suddenly said from behind him.

“What, for saving your life, you mean?” Steve teased.

“No, for destroying my business.”

Steve took offense to that. “What are you talking about?”

“Destroying your business?” Danny echoed, for some reason equally offended by the accusation. “The thing is in perfect working condition,” he added, gesturing towards the chopper.

“Yeah, but nobody is gonna want to eat fish for the next three months,” Kamekona lamented. “But on the bright side, it allows me to concentrate on this,” he continued, showing them a somewhat crumply piece of paper.

“Huh, what is that?” Steve asked, squinting at the flyer. “Fun Kine Catamaran Tours?”

Danny could only roll his eyes at the big guy. “That's definitely on the bright side,” he muttered.

“Spread the word, twenty percent off for law enforcement.” It was fascinating just how convinced the guy was that this was some sort genius business idea. “Let everybody know.” And with that, he turned around and walked off — just as Chin's car pulled up next to the trolley.

“All right, buddy,” Steve called after him.

“All right,” Kamekona echoed.

Lou was first out of the car. He raised a finger at Steve and shook his head. “James Bond, my ass.”

Chin still looked concerned. “That was close,” he worried.

“Yeah,” Kono agreed.

“Speaking of close,” Steve said, looking at his watch. “Kono, you, um, you're getting married in five minutes.”

“Should we go?” she asked, seemingly completely at ease with the situation.

“I think we probably should,” Steve suggested.

“You look ready,” Chin commented and that got a smile out of everyone.

He and Lou headed back to the Mustang, Catherine and Kono disappeared in the Corvette. Neither car had any space for two more passengers so then it was just Danny and Steve still standing there.

Danny looked around and then over to Steve. “So, you wanna take the trolley, the shrimp truck or the helicopter?” he asked.

  
  


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Three hours later, Danny was sitting alone at a table at the wedding reception, carefully sipping the glass of scotch he'd gotten himself at the bar not too long ago. He was here with his kid, so he wasn't looking to get hammered — even though he could definitely use a little oblivion right now. Grace still barely spoke a word with him and things with Steve were awkward and tense.

They needed to talk. Really talk. Danny needed to tell him about the real reason why he had signed that waiver, needed to explain how it had made him feel to find out that he had killed the father of two children, how it was still affecting him now. But at the same time, he didn't know what good it would do. Telling Steve about these things wouldn't change the way he felt. Maybe it would fix them, for now. But it wouldn't fix the real problem. So… why bother?

Shaking his head at the thought, Danny stared at the small pool of amber liquid left in the tumbler. Steve deserved to know the truth, deserved to know what exactly it was that was slowly destroying what they had.

With a sigh, Danny looked up, over his shoulder to the dance floor. He really wished he could just go out there and have a good time with everyone, be happy for Kono and Adam and just forget about everything for the rest of the day.

Was one damned day really too much to ask?

Downing the last bit of scotch, he pushed his chair back and got up to get a refill.

“Hey.” Kono, was suddenly standing right in front of him. And even with her lips pursed and the small crease between her brows, there was no way she could hide that bright smile in her sparkling eyes. She looked so happy it almost hurt.

“You look like you're having a great time,” she observed sarcastically.

Danny shrugged, unable to bring himself to pretend everything was fine. “What gave it away?” he asked with a weak smile.

Kono shook her head at him. She reached for the empty glass in his hand, pried it loose from his clinging fingers and set it down on the table. Then she grabbed his hand and tugged at it. “Come on. No more sitting around and drinking alone.”

Danny didn't move. “Are we going for shots at the bar?” he asked hopefully.

Kono snorted. “No! Come on,” she said, pulling him in the other direction. “The bride wants to dance!”

Rolling his eyes at her, Danny surrendered. “Well, I can't say no to that,” he sighed and let himself be dragged out to the dance floor.

He immediately spotted Grace among the crowd. She was hard to miss in her bright pink dress and Danny wasn't really surprised to see her dancing with Steve. Still, the sight made him stop for a minute. They were talking and laughing. They looked happy.

“Hey,” Kono said gently, pulling him in. “What's going on?” she asked as she laid a hand on his shoulder. Danny put his hand on her back and they started swaying to the music. “Is it Grace or Steve? Or both?”

“It's nothing for you to worry about,” Danny decided, giving her a serious look. “Not today, anyway.”

Kono narrowed her eyes at him unhappily. And Danny understood her reluctance to let this go. He would have been surprised if his closest friend simply backed off. He would react the same way if their roles were reversed. But this was her wedding and she deserved nothing short of a perfect day. And that supposedly perfect day had already been ruined by a nuclear bomb and Gabriel showing up. And now Danny continued to ruin it with his broody mood and problems. As his friend, she deserved to know what was going on. And maybe he should have come to her sooner with this. But she had been so caught up in the wedding preparations and Danny hadn't wanted to dampen her excitement. After everything Kono and Adam had been through, they deserved a happy wedding and the best honeymoon.

So this talk would have to wait. And that was fine, because it wasn't like this thing with Reyes wouldn't still be there in a couple of weeks.

“So, Catherine's back,” Kono said after a little while, her tone overly casual.

Danny huffed out a laugh. “Very subtle,” he commented.

“I try,” Kono grinned and then raised her eyebrows expectantly. She was really not going to let this go. “So, is she the reason why you're all mopey and miserable looking?”

“It's— it's got nothing to do with her,” Danny said and then huffed out a small laugh. If only things were so simple. If only he was just jealous because Steve's ex was suddenly back.

Kono looked doubtful but accepted his answer with a small, one-shouldered shrug. “Charlie?” she then asked.

Danny wasn't surprised that she knew about Charlie, even though he hadn't told her yet. He hadn't told anyone except for Steve. Not because this was some kind of big secret. Charlie was his son and, if anything, Danny was proud to be his father. But there simply hand't been any time for him to break this kind of news to his friends. This wasn't something you could just mention between serial killers, blood tests and nuclear bombs.

But Steve had probably managed to find quiet moment to tell the rest of the team about the situation, maybe just out of necessity in order to explain Danny's absence the other day when he had been at the hospital. And that was okay, really. Steve didn't need Danny's permission to talk about this to their friends. This was their family, after all. It affected them both. And maybe Steve had simply needed someone to talk to about everything.

“Steve said he's sick, that he needs a bone marrow transplant,” Kono added quietly after a long moment. “It's a lot to take in, huh?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed with a sigh. “It's a lot of change happening really fast.”

Kono nodded in understanding before she tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes a little. “But that's not all of it,” she stated and pulled further back to look at him better with demanding yet sympathetic eyes. There was something in that expression that reminded Danny of his mom. That small hint of maternal disapproval for trying to get away with anything less than the whole honest truth.

But this was not the time or place for it.

“It's also Grace,” Danny said with a sigh. “She's mad because Rachel and I lied to her. About getting back together again.”

“Ah,” Kono simply said knowingly.

“But,” Danny added, “given how things turned out, I still think it was the right decision not to tell her anything at the time.”

“She'll come around,” Kono said with a confident, small smile.

Danny wasn't so sure. He hated lying to Grace. And this was something pretty big that he had kept from her for years.

“Look, when I was little, my parents had this shabby old car. It was a piece of junk, rusty all over and constantly breaking down. So eventually, we got a new car. And I _hated_ the new car. It smelled funny and I wasn't allowed to sit on the seats with my wet bathing suit.”

“Is there a point to this lovely anecdote?” Danny asked, perplexed.

Kono ignored the interruption. “For a long time, I would have given everything to just curl up just one more time on the backseat of that old car with my towel and one of mom's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches after a long Sunday afternoon at the beach. But then my dad got into an accident. But he was okay, not a scratch on him, because the stupid new car had airbags and— what I'm saying is that change is hard sometimes. Especially if you're a little girl and something that's really important to you gets taken away.”

Danny gave Kono a long look. “So, basically, I'm your dad, Rachel is your mom and we took that old car for one more trip to the beach and didn't tell you— Grace about it? And Steve is the airbag in the new car that hit me in the face?”

Kono snorted out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged, still smiling brightly. “Look, I get that it's a lame comparison. But you didn't tell Grace about that trip to the beach because you knew how dangerous that old car was and you just didn't want her to get hurt. So you didn't want to tell her anything before you had the chance to get the car checked over by a mechanic. But then the mechanic—”

“I get it,” Danny cut in before the mixing of metaphors and reality got completely out of hand. “Rachel and I didn't tell Grace about us to protect her, I know that. I knew all that before we started talking about cars and mechanics, but I appreciate the effort.”

Kono pouted unhappily. “Do you want me to go and talk to Grace about cars and mechanics?” she offered.

Danny quickly shook his head. “No. I think I'll do that myself. But thank you.”

“You're welcome,” she said brightly. Then her expression grew more serious and she leaned in a little, bringing her mouth closer to his ear. “About the other stuff,” Kono said ominously. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”

Danny sighed. Of course, she knew that there was something else, something off between him and Steve. She knew him too well not to notice. “I know, babe,” he assured her, kissing her cheek.

Kono laughed lightly. She pulled away and ducked under his arm as she spun around in a circle. Then she tugged on Danny's hand and pulled him half way across the dance floor. “Hey, boss,” she called out to Steve. “You owe me a dance.” And then she was grabbing Grace by the shoulders, gently but insistently steering her towards Danny.

“Not subtle at all,” he hissed at Kono. She just flashed him a big grin and then twirled away from them to wrap her arms around Steve's neck. Steve just looked confused and surprised and like he wanted to apologize to Grace.

“I'm coming for your daughter next,” Kono chirped at Danny before she and Steve disappeared in the crowed.

Danny was left with Grace. She stood somewhat awkwardly in front of him, arms crossed and glaring at Danny as if all this was his fault.

“You having a good time?” he asked with a badly faked smile.

“I did,” she grumbled, eyes wandering.

“Grace, please,” Danny admonished and then put an arm around her shoulders to gently navigate her off the dance floor. This was not the place to have this conversation.

Grace sighed dramatically and jerked out of his hold as soon as they stepped out onto the patio. She turned to face him with a dark expression. “I'm sorry for running away, Danno. Is that what you want me to say?”

Danny considered her for a moment, frowning. “Only if you mean it.”

Blowing out a heavy breath, Grace once again just glared at him.

O-kay.

“Well, to be honest, I don't know if you really have anything to apologize for,” Danny said thoughtfully.

She quirked up a curious eyebrow at that.

“I guess going to Steve's house isn't really running away,” Danny explained and then shrugged. “A note would have been nice, though.”

“I'll leave one next time.”

“Next time? You mean when you're old enough to drive and it's not dark outside and—“ Danny stopped, then sighed. “I don't want there to be a next time, Monkey,” he told her quietly.

Grace shrugged but Danny could tell the defiance was now not much more than a facade. “I can't make any promises,” she said.

“You— you can't make any promises? Okay. Well, maybe you can get Steve to pick you up, then? Next time, when your not running away because your mom and dad are acting stupid, huh?”

She gave him a long look before she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Danny couldn't help himself. He reached out and pulled Grace in for a hug. Thankfully, she only put up minimal resistance before she wrapped her arms around him, too, hugging back tightly. “I'm sorry we lied to you,” Danny said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before he pulled back a little to be able to look at her. “But— it was a complicated situation. Your mom was married and— We didn't want you to get your hopes up in case things didn't work out between us. Can you understand that? We were trying to protect you.”

Grace just looked at him. “I always wanted you to get back together. I always wanted things to go back to the way they were.”

“Do you still want that?”

Grace didn't answer, she just narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you and Steve fighting?”

“We're not fighting,” Danny denied, almost instinctively. “We're— It's complicated.”

Rolling her eyes at the answer, Grace heaved an annoyed sigh. “It was complicated then, with mom,” she said, her voice rising. “Are you and Steve breaking up?”

“Grace—“

“Don't lie to me again!”

“Grace, please,” Danny begged, because she was thinking too fast for him right now. “I don't want to break up. And I don't think Steve wants to, either.” But the situation was so much more complicated than that. More complicated than he could ever explain to her.

“Then why are you acting so weird?”

“We—”

“You're barely talking to each other and you're not dancing and you're staying at your house and Steve is staying at his. He won't say anything to me about it and now you are not saying anything to me either and I just wanna know what's going on.”

“I—“

“You can tell me,” she added, all serious and pleading — and it was kind of breaking Danny's heart that he couldn't. He couldn't tell her that killing the father of two kids, just like her, was eating him up inside. He couldn't tell her that what he had done was destroying everything. He just couldn't tell her. Because she would hate him if he did. And he could take a lot. But he couldn't take that.

“I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to protect me.”

“Yes, I do,” Danny told her softly. “And that's kind of what this thing between Steve and me is all about.”

It was all about protecting Grace and Charlie, Danny suddenly realized. Steve was only trying to protect them, even from their own father if necessary. And Danny— he wasn't sure anymore who he was trying to protect. His kids? Or maybe just himself.

Grace deserved to know the truth and he could only hide so long behind her being too young to understand everything.

Lying to her didn't feel like the right thing to do. It wasn't fair to her. But was it fair not to lie to her? Was it fair to destroy the good memories she had of her uncle Matt and to replace them with stories of him being a criminal and a fugitive? Was it fair to put images of his violent death into her head? If Danny started to tell her the truth, all of this would come out, too. And how could he do that to her?

Grace frowned at him. “I don't understand.”

“Steve was trying to make sure I don't forget that I have to look out for you. And for Charlie now, too, and— I got angry at him.”

“So you're fighting because of me and Charlie?”

“No.” Danny quickly shook his head, hating the idea of her thinking that any of this could be her fault. “We weren't— Steve was fighting for you. He said some things that made me feel attacked, but he was just worried.”

“Why?” Grace asked. She sounded almost scared.

Danny didn't want to answer that question here and now. Or at all. It was hard to admit to her, out loud, that he wasn't as fine as he had pretended to be after Colombia. But he owed this to her. She deserved to know at least this part of the truth. It had almost cost her her father after all. “I've been a little sad lately,” he said carefully.

“Why?” Grace asked again, her eyes growing big and round.

“When they arrested me because I killed that man, I found out that he had kids,” he explained, forcing himself to keep looking at her as he did. “I feel bad for taking their father from them.”

“But he was a bad man and they let you go because you didn't have a choice,” Grace argued, reciting the version of what had happened that Danny and Steve had told her after the extradition.

“I still feel bad about it,” Danny said. “I'm the one who's responsible for them having to grow up without their father.”

Grace took in his answer quietly and with a thoughtful frown. It seemed to make sense to her because she nodded after a moment. “Is there something I can do to help?”

Danny smiled at that. “You could give me a hug.”

Smiling back a little, she wrapped her arms around his middle pressed herself close to him. “I love you, Danno.”

Danny held her tight for a long moment. “I love you, too,” he told her, dropping a kiss to her hair.

“Hey, hey, Gracie!” Kono called as soon as Danny let his daughter go again. She was suddenly right next to them and started pulling none too gently on Grace's arm. “You're up. Come on, enough standing around.” She giggled and twirled away, back towards the dance floor and Grace followed with an apologetic shrug. Danny watched them go, surprised that Kono hadn't shoved Steve into his face next.

“Danny, can I talk to you for a minute.”

The familiar voice made Danny turn around. He found Catherine standing a few feet away. Her expression was serious and she was holding a beige folder tucked against herself. Danny wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. But then he figured it couldn't be worse than a nuclear bomb.

“Sure.”

She jerked her chin towards the stairs that lead down to the garden where the ceremony had been held. “Walk with me?” she asked and shot a pointed look at some of the people close by.

Danny instantly regretted agreeing to having this conversation. He followed her down the step and to a quiet corner behind some trees where they'd be mostly shielded from view. Wordlessly, she pushed the folder into his hands.

“What's this?” he asked carefully.

“Open it.”

Cringing, Danny did as he was told. Inside, he found a document, heavily redacted, about half an inch thick. There was also a photo of a woman clipped to the lid. She was maybe in her mid to late thirties, had big, chocolate colored eyes and dark hair. She didn't look familiar. “Who is this?” Danny asked, looking up at Catherine.

She held his gaze for a moment before she spoke. “Lauren Moreno. But her real name is Ingrid Paola Reyes. Marco Reyes' wife.”

Danny felt his breath catch. His hands twitched, almost lost their grip on the folder. His heart pounded inside his chest as he slowly looked back down at the photo.

“She took her two kids and fled the country when her husband died,” Catherine said diplomatically. She sounded really far away all of a sudden, Danny barely heard her over the sound of his own blood rushing inside his ears. “CIA offered her protection in return for information.”

Still staring at the woman whose husband he'd murdered, Danny shook his head. “I don't understand,” he muttered and then shifted his eyes to the document. Only now he recognized the CIA logo on the first page. But there wasn't much else, almost every single word was covered with heavy black lines.

Catherine lightly tapped the folder with a finger. “This is a statement she gave to the CIA. It's pretty long but the important part is—“ She started fiddling with the pages, leaved through them until she stopped about halfway through the document, on a page that had only the occasional word redacted. “—right here. She talks about how her husband was preparing their children to enter the family business. They are twelve and fourteen and he did all kinds of awful things in front of them, to teach them.” Bitterness and disgust was clearly audible in her voice now. “Extortion, torture, executions. Of course the CIA didn't give a shit about any of that. Heartless bastards.” Catherine sighed morosely.

“I'm not trying to say that what you did was right, Danny,” she continued after a beat, her tone softer, more sympathetic. “I'm sure, in a way, Francisco and Hector miss their father but— now they don't have to grow up like that, live that life. They have a chance to be kids and do whatever the hell they choose.”

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Danny remembered her telling him about Najib wanting to become a doctor, but the thought only barely registered. Danny was too busy staring at the page, trying to confirm what Catherine had just told him. But his brain refused to put the letters into words and the words into sentences.

His eyes snapped up to meet Catherine's when she put a light hand on his forearm. “You can keep that,” she told him gently. “Take your time, read it and maybe, somehow, it'll help you to find a way to get past this.”

Danny frowned at her. She made it sound so easy.

His gaze dropped back down to the folder. He spotted the names, Francisco and Hector, in the alphabet soup on the page and wondered if what he'd learned just now changed anything. If any of this had flipped some kind of switch in his brain. If he could be happy now and not feel like monster.

Maybe.

Probably not.

Still, Danny appreciated what Catherine had done, or what she was trying to do. “Thank you for this,” he said, carefully closing the folder. “This means a lot.”

Catherine nodded, watching him with an expression pinched in concern. “I also got this for you,” she said slowly, fishing a small post-it note from her tiny purse and handing the piece of paper over to Danny. On it was a name and a phone number. “He's a civilian psychiatrist who's helped a friend of mine a lot after he got out of the service. He was having a hard time dealing with some of the things he did, had to do, whatever.”

Danny looked at her, eyebrows rising.

Catherine shook her head somewhat dismissively. “Hey, it's just a thought.”

Judging by the way she then tilted her head to the side and bit her lip, she quickly changed her mind on the matter. “But consider it, okay?”

Danny nodded. “I will,” he said, feeling like her owed her at least a that.

  
  


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An hour later, Danny sat alone at the team's table again, nursing another generous glass of something golden that burned going down his throat. It was going to be his last drink for the night because he would have to drive his daughter back to Rachel's at some point and he wanted to make sure that, when the time came, his blood alcohol was within the legal limit.

At home, he could have all the goddamn liquor he wanted… and maybe needed. The beige folder was safely tucked into the Camaro's glove compartment at the moment, waiting for him. He had sat in his car for a good ten minutes, tapping the closed folder against the steering wheel. He had wanted to read the statement right away, confirm what Catherine had told him. But at the same time, he wanted to put it off for as long as possible, afraid that all of this didn't make any difference at all. That even this wouldn't change how he felt about killing the father of these two boys. And if this didn't give him some kind of peace, then nothing could.

“Hey.”

Danny blinked his eyes before he slowly looked up to Steve.

He stood there, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his pants, giving the glass in Danny's hand a disapproving glare.

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“Aren't you driving?”

Danny scowled. “Later,” he muttered and let his gaze wander around, looking for his daughter. She was waiting in line for a piece of the wedding cake. “Special occasion, so Rachel and I agreed on a special curfew.”

“Ah,” Steve said. He pulled back the next chair and sat down with his whole body turned to face Danny. Then he leaned forward, closer. Danny froze and stared numbly as Steve's large hand peeled the tumbler from his fingers.

“Do you mind? What are you drinking?” Steve asked and emptied the glass in one big gulp. He grimaced. “Bourbon.”

Danny glared, annoyed, because, Jesus Christ, he didn't need Steve to monitor and control his alcohol intake. Aimlessly, he waved a hand in Grace's direction. “Oh, look, free cake!”

Steve ignored him and pushed the glass towards the center of the table, as if to keep it away from Danny. But hey, Danny didn't care now anyway.

“I saw you talk to Grace,” Steve said seriously. “Did you work things out?”

Danny put an elbow on the table and propped his chin up in his hand. He took a moment to look at Steve, to study his guarded but concerned expression. “We're good, I think,” he said slowly and wondered how and why this was so important to Steve, why he cared so goddamn much.

Steve sighed, as if relieved. “That's good.”

“Yeah, it is,” Danny agreed.

Steve flashed him a big grin. Then he rubbed his hands together and looked over his shoulder. “What did you say about free cake?”

Danny rolled his eyes and watched him hurry away, cutting in line to stand next to Grace.

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


Danny fell asleep on the couch, with the beige folder on his chest and a bottle of Rémy Martin on the coffee table.

He woke up the next morning with a headache and a buzzing cell phone. And he had known then that the day was destined to become a complete disaster. Still, he never would have pictured himself sitting in the ICU hallway of King's Medical that evening, worrying about Kono becoming a widow just a day after her wedding.

Jesus Christ, had they underestimated Gabriel Waincroft.

Across from Danny, Chin was sitting next to Kono, kneading her hand nervously in his own. The dark look on his face made it obvious that he was blaming himself for all this.

Kono was staring blankly at nothing. Her lower jaw was covered in ugly bruises on both sides. The left was worse, though. The side where some butcher had pulled out a molar with brute force.

At least she had cleaned up a little. All the blood was gone, she was wearing a fresh top. Still, she looked absolutely horrible.

Danny tore his eyes away from her, looked out the double doors to where the ICU area ended, where Steve stood. He was on the phone again, pointlessly harassing HPD for another update they didn't have. Gabriel was gone, with a shit ton of money. He would be stupid to hang around now. Though Gabriel was probably more insane than he was smart, so who knew what the guy had planned next.

A door to Danny's left suddenly swung open. Kono's head snapped up. She was out of her chair in a second.

The doctor offered her an encouraging smile and Danny blew out a relieved breath before the man had even said a word.

“How is he?” Kono asked as Steve hurried over to hear the news first hand as well.

“He will be all right,” the doctor answered. “The bullet did some internal damage and your husband has lost a lot of blood. But he should make a full recovery.”

Kono sagged a little with relief. Chin kept her on her feet with a strong hand curled around her elbow.

“Thank you,” she all but whispered, smiling softly despite the bruises. “When can I see him?”

“Soon,” the doctor told her with a kind smile. “Someone will come and get you as soon as your husband is out of recovery.”

“Thank you,” Chin said when Kono just nodded. The doctor left with a nod of his own and another smile.

Chin tried to push Kono back to her seat then, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You guys should go home,” she said quietly. “It's— it's getting late.”

“I'll stay,” Chin said immediately.

Kono shot him a stern look.

“I'm not leaving,” he stated calmly.

Guilt. Kono probably saw is just as clearly in Chin's eyes as Danny did. And as much as Danny wanted to get involved in this, tell Chin himself that there had been nothing he could have done to stop Gabriel from doing this to Kono and Adam, he knew this was something that Kono and Chin needed to discuss and work out between just the two of them.

So he smiled at Kono, reached out to hug her before she could tell Chin again that he didn't have to stay.

Some of the tension left her body when Danny wrapped his arms around her. “I love you,” he whispered quietly into her ear.

Kono nodded when she pulled away, lips pressed firmly to a thin line as she fought back tears.

Steve hesitated. He clearly didn't want to leave either. Hell, he probably felt just as guilty as Chin did, for whatever reason. That fucked-up, twisted place inside his head would sure as hell have no problem to come up with something. So Danny nudged him in the side a little, gave him a look he hoped communicated something along the lines of _give them some space._

Steve gave small nod before he turned to Kono. “Come here,” he said before he took her into his arms. “You did good today,” he told her quietly, running a hand over her hair. He sounded proud and sad and angry. He pulled away, looked at her seriously. “If you need anything or if you wanna talk about what happened to you, you give me a call, okay. Any time. I mean it.”

Kono nodded, biting her lip.

Danny felt his heart clench with something he couldn't quite name or define. Maybe it was pride, too. Love. Because here was Steve, opening up to Kono in a small but significant way, offering to talk, to listen. Because he knew exactly just what she had been through today. He had sat in that chair. And he knew that she would need someone who could understand what it had felt like to be at the mercy of someone like that. She would need someone who could understand that kind of fear. And the fact that Steve was offering to be that person for her — it showed Danny just how far he had come, how much progress he'd made since that day when he and Danny had promised to each other to work out their issues so that, someday, they could be happy together.

But maybe that feeling inside Danny's chest wasn't pride or love at all. Maybe it was shame and failure and disgust. Because it seemed like for every right step Steve had taken, Danny had taken one into the opposite direction. Spiraling further and further away from what they were supposed to have, to be.

Clearing his throat, Danny tried to offer Kono a smile. “Take care of yourself. And your husband,” he said.

He and Steve both turned to leave then.

“You wanna go grab a beer?” Steve suddenly asked as they walked down the corridor.

“Yeah,” Danny heard himself saying. It was a reflex. And because Steve was asking, in spite of everything. Maybe because what had happened to Kono today had brought up some ugly memories for him. It certainly had for Danny. Or maybe simply because Steve simply needed someone to share a beer with. And, damn, if Danny couldn't at least do that for him.

“Yeah, let's do that,” he said.

“Where do you wanna go?” Steve asked.

“Your place, out back?”

“Sounds good.”

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


“Can you get the beer?” Steve asked as they walked through the front door of the house. He was already holding his phone in his hand and Danny knew he was going to call Duke again.

Danny wanted to tell him to let it go, just for tonight. Take a break, get some rest. But he didn't. He knew he could be glad that Steve was even here right now and not at the office, looking for Gabriel himself.

“Sure,” he said and went to the kitchen while Steve went out back. It was already getting dark outside and Danny wondered if he should order some dinner, too, if just to make sure that Steve ate something tonight.

Later, maybe. Right now, they both needed a beer first. Or some of that Rémy Martin from Danny's coffee table.

He grabbed a full six pack from the fridge and followed Steve outside.

Steve was, as predicted, on the phone. Pacing just behind the chairs, restless, on edge. “No, I understand,” Danny heard him say, his voice tight as he nodded. “I appreciated the effort. Thanks.”

He ended the call with a stab of a finger to the display. Danny almost flinched in sympathy for the thing.

He set down the six pack on one of the chairs and pulled out two bottles. Steve didn't even react when Danny held one out to him. He was staring off somewhere into the distance, jaw set, brows creased in anger. Danny could practically feel the frustration boiling under his skin.

“Nothing on Gabriel yet,” Steve bit out.

“Hey,” Danny called softly.

Steve's gaze zeroed in on Danny with an abruptness and sharp focus that startled him. “I want him,” he hissed.

“Steve—“ Danny tried but was cut off immediately.

“You saw her,” Steve all but shouted back at him, angry, dangerous. “You know what he did to her. To both of them. He'll pay for that.”

“I know this is hard for you but you gotta—“

“Hard for me? I'm not the one who got tied to a chair and got a molar pulled out with a pair of pliers.”

“No, you're not,” Danny agreed, matching the volume and vehemence of Steve voice. Then he paused, took in a slow, calming breath before he added quietly, “But you know what it's like to sit in that chair.”

Steve shrunk back, just a little bit, as if Danny's words had physically hit him. He shook his head as if he was denying the truth of Danny's statement. Then he set his jaw, inched his chin up defiantly. “This isn't about me,” he said, hands coming up to ward Danny off even though he hadn't moved a muscle. “I should head back to HQ, there's gotta be something—“

“Steve—“

“It's a six hundred square mile island, he can't just disappear.”

“We'll find him.”

“When?” Steve asked sharply, with an accusing glare at Danny. But Danny knew it wasn't directed at him at all. If Steve could, he would have directed it at himself. “How many more people are gonna get hurt before we do?”

“Half of HPD is out there looking for him right now,” Danny reasoned, trying to keep his tone neutral, calm. “And you're exhausted. You need a break, not sit in front of a computer screen all night.”

Steve huffed out a sarcastic snort at that. “I'm fine,” he said, contradicting his words by pinching the bridge of his nose. He seemed unaware of the gesture and Danny almost rolled his eyes at him.

“I know you are,” he said quietly. “And Kono and Adam will be, too.”

That took some of the angry storm out of Steve's sails. He deflated, just a tiny little bit. “This is getting out of control,” he ground out. “Gabriel is out of control.”

“He got what he wanted from Adam. I'm sure he's gonna lay low for a while,” Danny said in order to lessen the urgency of the situation a little more. It worked better than he'd hoped. Steve calmed down visibly, blew out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. He looked so tired.

“Finding him might take some time,” Danny continued. “And that means you gotta pace yourself, take care of yourself. Have a little patience.”

Steve nodded. “You're right,” he said, unsatisfied but accepting on some level. “You're right.”

“Come on,” Danny beckoned, holding out the beer to him again.

This time, Steve took the bottle. “Thanks,” he said, then looked up to meet Danny's eyes. After a long moment, he suddenly huffed out a short laugh, shook his head as if in disbelieve. “I don't know what I'd do without you,” he said.

Ignoring the strange melancholy in Steve's voice, Danny found a smile, somehow, and opened his bottle.

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


They ended up in the living room, watching a game of Hockey. Danny had ordered Thai food at some point, Steve had gotten another six pack of beer from the fridge. They sat apart from each other, Danny on the couch, Steve in the lounge chair. They didn't talk much, only made random comments on the game every now and then. But the atmosphere was comfortable, easy, probably aided by alcohol and fatigue. Danny didn't mind. The game, the food and the silence let him relax, let him ignore and forget the rest of the world and all the bad things in it for a while.

But then, far too soon, the horn blared to signal the end of the third period and with it the end of the game. It felt like an alarm clock going off in the morning. The tranquility, the lull of the moment came to an abrupt end, too, and reality forced its way back into the room.

Danny stood, even before Steve had turned off the tv. “It's late,” he said and started stacking takeout cartons on the coffee table, arranging napkins and plastic forks and wooden chopsticks to a heap. When he looked up, he found Steve studying him with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“I think I should— I'm just— I'm gonna head over to my place,” Danny added, jerking a thumb at the door.

“You sure you're good to drive?” Steve asked neutrally.

Danny shot a quick glance down at the empty beer bottles on the table. Maybe driving wasn't such a good idea. He could get a cab, though. “I—“

“You can stay,” Steve interrupted. “I don't mind.” His tone was still even, casual. But the shadow in his eyes that Danny could see when he dared to look gave Steve away. He didn't want to be alone tonight. Not after what Kono had been through, after the memories of Wo Fat her ordeal must have dredged up.

“I can take the couch or Grace's room if you don't wanna—“ Steve cut himself off with a jerky shrug. The offer was clear, though. Danny's gaze flickered up to the bedroom door.

“No, I'll take the couch,” he decided.

“Okay,” Steve simply said. He looked relieved, didn't even try to argue over the sleeping arrangements.

Danny gestured to the stairs. “Um, I'm gonna go brush my teeth, grab a shirt, okay?”

Steve just nodded. He got up from the chair and started cleaning when Danny headed upstairs.

Danny didn't bother with the light in the bedroom, didn't pause or even slow down to avoid the idea of staying in here tonight. He went straight into the bathroom instead, switched on the lights in here and grabbed his blue toothbrush, ignoring the green one in the cup next to it.

He cleaned his teeth quickly and efficiently, then splashed some cold water into his face. Drying off, he walked out of the bathroom and nearly jumped out of his skin when Steve suddenly stood right in front of him.

The towel dropped soundlessly to the floor.

“Jesus,” Danny hissed.

Steve just looked at him.

“What the—“

“I miss you,” Steve said with a hitching intake of breath. His voice sounded desperate in the silence, his eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit room.

Danny didn't know what to do. He just stood there, frozen.

Steve suddenly moved, reached for the bathroom door and pushed it shut. Darkness swallowed them and Danny stopped breathing when Steve started crowding him against the wall. His head banged against the solid surface, Steve's heaving chest just an inch from his own.

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. And then Steve tilted his head to the side, just a little bit, asking permission. Without thinking, Danny inched his chin up and a second later, Steve kissed him, warm hands on Danny's neck and jaw, angling his head just right.

Danny let himself be pressed against the wall, a perfectly firm, unyielding counterpoint to the way Steve's body seemed to melt seamlessly against his front. He let himself be kissed, hard and hungry and desperate.

Everything around them disappeared as Danny's world narrowed itself down to the heat and need in Steve's touches and kisses. Danny wrapped his arms around him, sliding them under his shirt at the back, trying to pull him in even closer, wanting to feel himself be pressed harder against the wall.

But then Steve paused, for just a second. He inhaled a breath and when his lips met Danny's again, everything felt different. It felt like the urgency had bled right out of him, now that he'd made sure Danny was there, real. Steve started to pull back a little, kissed deep and gentle, taking his time. Fingertips brushed the hair at Danny's nape, feathery and soft.

The touch grated like sandpaper on Danny's skin.

He felt a sudden pressure on his chest and wondered briefly if Steve had a hand wrapped around his throat, too, squeezing, choking him. But he hadn't. Steve's hands, like everything about Steve right now, were tender and careful, like Danny was the most precious and fragile thing, like this was their very first kiss — and Danny couldn't do this, not like this. It was suffocating and unbearable.

“Steve—“ he breathed, jerking his head to the side, breaking away from the kiss.

Steve's lips chased his mouth, his hand pressed firmer against Danny's jaw. It was a small, fleeting reawakening of the hunger, the desperation from before. And Danny wanted more of this. This, he could handle. But then their eyes met again and Steve stilled and just looked at Danny, eyes heavy and apologetic.

“Sorry,” he gasped, hot breath tingling on Danny's skin.

Danny started at Steve's mouth, the wet, glistening lower lip he couldn't quite reach. He wanted to sink his teeth into the soft skin, nibble and bite at it until Steve pushed him back into the wall, hard and rough, and forgot all about being soft and gentle and caring.

“It's okay. I want this,” Danny panted. He shook his head and dug his fingernails into the skin at Steve's back, pressed himself against his chest. “I want you,” he added and then sucked an open-mouthed kiss to Steve's throat, just above the collar bone.

Steve hissed Danny's name, his hands still painfully light on Danny's body.

“I love you,” he whispered then and Danny pretended he hadn't heard the words or the desperation in his voice. He grazed teeth over vulnerable skin, used his body to push Steve back, towards the bed, because Steve refused to push in the other direction.

Hands settled on Danny's hips, trying to hold him back. But the hands were still too tender, too careful. “Hey, slow down,” Steve breathed close to his ear as he bumped into the bed frame.

“I don't wanna slow down.”

Dragging his nails, Danny moved his hands from Steve's back to his waist, traced his belt to the buckle at the front. All the while he kept nibbling and licking at Steve's throat, sucking the same spot again, harder.

“Danny. Stop.”

The firmly spoken words hit Danny like a bucket of iced water. He froze, pulled back just a little, as much as his locked-up muscles allowed.

“Not— not like this,” Steve voice was quieter again, soft and pleading, breathless.

Danny stared at him. “You started this,” he accused between his own panting breaths.

“Not this.” Steve let his hands fall to his sides. His expression darkened, turned almost angry. “I don't want a quick, meaningless fuck, Danny.”

That hurt. It stung even more when Danny realized that meaningless was all he had to offer right now. And that was not how it was supposed to be. Not what Steve deserved, so much less than Danny wanted to give.

“I— I should— I should go,” he muttered. Letting go of the belt, of Steve, he turned and started to walk away.

He never should have considered staying here in the first place. He should have known that something like this—

“Do you still love me?”

The question stopped Danny by the door, stopped the whole world from spinning and the momentum almost knocked him off balance. He reached out one hand to steady himself on the frame.

“I— I'm sorry,” Steve said from somewhere far away. Danny barely heard him, felt the ache inside his chest too acutely to register anything else. “I said I'd wait and— It's okay, you don't have to say anything.”

Danny forced himself to take a breath, to turn around and face Steve. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, heard his own voice breaking because this, this wasn't enough. Nowhere nearly enough to make up for what he'd done, what he had probably destroyed.

He stood there, staring at Steve in the darkness, wondering how they had even gotten here? How they had become _this_.

“I'm sorry for making you feel like this, for making you doubt me and the way I feel about you. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. I'm sorry—“

“Danny.” Steve stood suddenly right in front of him.

It was so hard to breathe.

“I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry. I—“

“Danny, please.”

A hand, just as gentle as before, cupped his jaw. Danny's swimming gaze focussed, zeroed in, sharp and clear, on the spot, the bruise he had sucked on Steve's skin just minutes ago. “I hurt you,” he whispered, raising a shaking hand, not daring to touch — not able to touch due to the gaping distance he'd created between them, not physically but emotionally.

“I couldn't leave you there,” Steve said, the tone of his voice somewhere between an explanation and an apology.

Danny frowned, confused. He didn't understand what Steve was saying. Looking up, he met Steve's eyes. And then it clicked. “Is that what you think? That I— That I've been punishing you for getting me out of prison?” he asked.

All this time, for months, this was what had been going through Steve's head? Every time Steve had said I love you, every time Danny hadn't said it back. Every time Steve had been caring and gentle, every time Danny had been cold and hard. Every time, this was what he'd been thinking?

“I know it was selfish,” Steve said. “But I couldn't leave you there. I couldn't lose anyone else. I couldn't lose you. And I understand if you hate me for that.”

Danny closed his eyes, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks. He couldn't be sure what hurt more. The things Steve was saying or the acceptance in the tone of his voice. He dropped his still hovering hand to Steve's chest, felt his warmth underneath the shirt. “I don't hate you,” he breathed, barely able to get the words out. The idea was just so inconceivable. “Maybe I was angry at you, but I don't hate you.”

He felt Steve's breath hitch, heard him make a quiet sound of sheer relief.

“I hate what I did,” Danny told him, his voice steadier, stronger. Because Steve needed him to say this. And for him, Danny could. “From the moment I pulled the trigger, I've hated what I did. But on that day, when I was arrested, Alexander told me that Reyes had two kids.” He paused, bit his lip hard at the pain his own words caused him. But he refused to look away. This was for Steve and Danny would not look away. For Steve, he would face what he had tried to pretend wasn't there.

“I took their father from them. And since that day, I— I've hated myself,” he admitted for the very first time, to Steve, to himself. “I hate myself because I killed the father of two innocent kids. That's why I signed the papers. I had to go to prison for them. Not for Reyes, but for _them_. But then I got out, just like that and— I couldn't just go on and pretend that everything was fine. But I had to, you know. For Grace and for you and… everyone. I tried to ignore this, this— I don't know what to call it. I just— I feel like I don't deserve this, to be here, to just live my life with Grace and with you. I started pushing you away and I didn't even realize it. I did that to punish myself, not to punish you.”

And that was it. That was all there was. The whole awful and ugly truth was finally out and it felt good, freeing, to acknowledge all this to himself, to Steve.

Steve, who was looking at him like he wanted to make it all go away, all better, but didn't know how.

Danny moved his hand up, brushed fingertips against the mark he'd left low on the base of Steve's throat. “I— I hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Danny, no,” Steve hushed, “You didn't—“

“I put bruises on you.” Danny cupped his other hand over Steve's hip, where he knew the old marks still lingered. But this time, his touch was tender, barely there. “And I— I only do it because you're always like this and I can't—” He broke off there, unable to finish the thought, because it all came out wrong. He was making it sound like this was Steve's fault and that was not what he wanted to say. What Danny wanted to say was that he just couldn't stand the gentleness of Steve's touches, couldn't bear the way Steve made him feel so loved sometimes. Because he didn't deserve any of it. And so he made sure, the only way he knew how to, that he didn't feel too much of it. Answered gentle with rough, caresses and kisses with bruises.

But that wasn't even the whole truth, the worst part.

“I hate seeing them on you, because all I can think about is all the people who've hurt you and I— I never want to hurt you. And I hate knowing that I put them there. I hate—”

“Hey, Da— sh, hey,” Steve cut in, soothed. He bracketed Danny's face between his calloused, caring hands. “I'm fine, okay. I'm all right.”

Danny wanted nothing more than to believe his reassurances.

“I hurt you to punish myself,” Danny added and suddenly hot shame burned a hole inside his chest when the realization hit. “How fucked-up am I?” he asked, more himself than Steve. “What kind of a person am I? I killed the father of two kids and I hurt the person I—“

“Danny,” Steve called, maybe not for the first time. “You didn't know Reyes had kids.”

“I didn't care!”

In that moment, when he'd pulled the trigger, he hadn't cared about anything. Not about Reyes' family, and not about his own.

“I didn't care and I don't understand why.”

Because Grace was always his first thought, always had been since the day Rachel had told him she was pregnant. But in that moment, he hadn't cared about anything at all. Hadn't cared that pulling the trigger would put her father into a prison cell for the rest of her life. And Danny just didn't understand how he could have not cared. How all that had mattered in that moment was revenge.

“Danny,” Steve said, firm but gentle. “You're the best man I know.”

Danny could keep the small, sarcastic sound of protests from escaping from the back of his throat.

“Danny, listen to me,” Steve insisted. “You are the best man I know. That's what I told Grace before I promised her to bring you home. That's what I believe and it's what she believes.” He paused to tilt his head to the side and offer a strained but hopeful smile. “You have to trust us on this.”

“What if I can't? I can't— I can't.”

The smile on Steve's face disappeared, but his expression remained hopeful. “You made a mistake. I've made mistakes, too. I let you do this and I shouldn't have.”

“Steve,” Danny started to object, because he knew why Steve had let him shoot Reyes, why he had just stood by and not tried to stop Danny. “I know why—“

“It doesn't matter why,” Steve cut him off, his voice low, just above a whisper but with a sharp edge of insistence still. “What matters is that you forgave me. And now you have to forgive yourself. If I had pulled the trigger, you would have forgiven me a long time ago.”

Steve paused, gave his words time to sink in. And Danny couldn't deny that, maybe, he was right. If it had been Steve— or anyone else in that same situation—

Danny suddenly remembered Chin. How he had told him about killing Delano. And Malcolm Letty. What he had wanted to do to Pelham. They had both been torn apart by grief and pain for what those people had done to their loved ones. And Danny, he had long forgiven them both. They were only human and they had made mistakes, too.

“It's okay now,” Steve hushed as his thumbs stroked over Danny's cheeks to collect the falling tears. “It's okay to forgive yourself. It's okay.”

Something tore itself out of Danny's chest, a small, strangled sound, then a breath that felt like it had been lodged deep inside his lungs ever since that day, that moment when he had looked Reyes in the eyes and shot him. And Danny allowed himself to think that, maybe, Steve was right. Maybe, he could be forgiven, too.

Boneless, he let himself sink against Steve. And Steve held him and, for the first time in a long while, it felt good; right.

  
  


— 2 months ago —

  
  


_Danny jerked awake with a silent scream on his lips._

_Heart racing and breathing hard, he felt every bruise on his body. But the worst pain pulsed somewhere deep inside his chest. And it had nothing to do with any physical damage caused by a pissed-off, corrupt Colombian prison guard._

_He had expected the nightmare, but nothing quite like this. They had been there this time, in the basement. Two young kids. Boys. With no real faces, just big, sad eyes that kept asking why. Why Danny had killed their father. Why Danny had taken him away from them when they had never done anything to hurt him._

_He didn't have an answer for them. Not down there and not in here, in the bedroom. In Steve's house. Back home._

_Danny shifted, tried to find a more comfortable position lying on his side but froze when a hand settled on his upturned hip._

“ _You okay?” Steve asked quietly from behind him. He scooted closer to Danny then, let his hand drift from hip to stomach. The touch was soft and caring. Familiar but in a strange, disconnected way where Danny could remember Steve's hands on his body but not what it was supposed to feel like, what it used to feel like, being held by him. All he knew was that Steve's touch had never felt like this before, had never felt so unwanted and wrong that it made Danny's skin prickle like this or made him want to squirm away from it before he suffocated._

“ _Danny?” Steve asked carefully, his hot breath tickling the skin at the back of Danny's neck._

_It felt wrong. All of it, even the sound of Steve's concerned voice. Because he still heard the angry shouts of the prison guards in his head, still felt their boots hitting his body, still smelled the stench of that filthy hellhole. And all of it, every single thing he remembered felt… right. That place was where he was supposed to be. Where he deserved to be for what he'd done. Alone, for the rest of his life, with two pairs of sad eyes looking at him in the darkness._

“ _Talk to me,” Steve asked quietly._

“ _Just a dream,” Danny whispered and hoped, for a brief moment, that this was the nightmare. That he could wake up again and none of this would be real._

“ _I got you,” Steve promised and shifted even closer, pressing his body against Danny's back. And Danny couldn't keep the small, distressed sound inside that escaped his throat._

“ _Shit, sorry,” Steve muttered, pulling away, just a little bit, still too careful and gentle. Danny wanted to push him off but he couldn't move._

“ _You're hurting, I'll get you some Tylenol,” Steve decided. He threw back the covers and pulled away from Danny completely. But it wasn't until he had disappeared into the bathroom that Danny's lungs allowed him to take in a full breath, before he could move and roll onto his back._

_He listened to the rattling of the pill bottle, the swish of the faucet. He closed his eyes when the light in the bathroom was switched off again, wondering how he was going to get through the night._

  
  


— present —

  
  


When Danny drifted awake, he felt warm and comfortable. He was lying on his side, with another body right in front of him. Their legs and feet were intertwined, Steve had both arms wrapped around him, holding him close even in his sleep.

Danny shifted minimally to get even closer, ducked down a little to press his forehead against Steve's chest. He still wore yesterday's shirt. Danny didn't remember going to bed last night, didn't remember anything but Steve, holding him with so much love and care that all Danny had wanted to do was sink into him, crawl up into that big heart of his and feel safe and loved and feathery light.

And now that feeling still lingered, still tingled at the edge of his consciousness. Danny still felt like it could maybe be okay for him to be loved by Steve like this, so fully, so completely and in spite of everything he'd done.

Maybe this feeling wasn't going to go away again.

“I've missed you, too,” he whispered into the small space between their bodies, so quietly he barely even heard the words himself.

But Steve must have heard them, because he tightened his hold, nuzzled his chin against the top of Danny's head and sighed contently.

Danny wondered if he was even awake.

They stayed like this for a long while. The room was bright with daylight when Danny eventually opened his eyes again. All he saw was still the dark blue of Steve's shirt. He didn't want to move, not ever. Not break the silence, the proximity. But now that he was more fully awake, there were thoughts and memories that kept nagging somewhere at the back of his mind, disrupting the peacefulness of the moment in a distant but persistent way. There were things he needed to say to Steve, things he needed to try and make right or at least explain. And there were questions. One question in particular that Danny needed answered. Even though he wasn't sure he wanted an answer, was afraid of how he might feel about it.

“You awake?” Danny asked quietly.

Steve hummed a response that was somewhere between a yes and a no.

“I wanna ask you something.” Danny paused and frowned. “I— It's not— I don't really want to, actually. I don't want to talk at all right now. But I— this thing is just in my head, you know. And I can't get it to shut up. So I have to. I have to ask.”

Steve drew his head back to consider Danny with small, sleepy eyes. “Ask me what?”

Danny wanted to pull him back in, as close, closer yet than they had been before, afraid of not being able to go back to this after he had said what was on his mind.

“When I told you about Reyes' kids, you didn't seem surprised,” he said quietly, not looking up to meet Steve's eyes. He waited a beat, smoothed his hand over the fabric of Steve's shirt at his back, stalling.

With a deep inhale, he made himself look up. “How long have you known? That he had a family?”

Steve averted his gaze down and set his jaw. He didn't say anything. Didn't have to. Danny knew the answer. Probably had known it for a long time, deep down, even before yesterday, before the question had ever formed itself in his mind. Because Steve had looked into Reyes and his operation before he and Danny had flown to Colombia to get Matt back.

“You knew all this time, didn't you?” Danny whispered. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I couldn't.”

To his own surprise, Danny smiled at the words, even huffed out a small laugh. “You're not supposed to keep secrets from me to protect me.”

“True,” Steve admitted, just a hint of confusion audible in his voice. “But we've only had that conversation five days ago.”

“That was not the first time we've had that talk, though,” Danny reminded gently. He stroked his hand over Steve's back again, still waiting for… the anger to bubble up inside him, for what-ifs to start swirling through his mind. What-ifs like, what if Danny had known back then, on that day, in that moment, that Reyes had two kids? Would he still have pulled the trigger?

But nothing happened. It seemed that right here, right now, none of it matter. Not the anger, not the what-ifs. Not even a little bit. What mattered was Steve and how everything he did was always to protect the people he loved. Him and Grace.

“I'm sorry for the things I said to you the other night,” Danny said quietly. “I shouldn't have—”

“Danny—“

“Please, let me say this.” Danny looked up to him again. He pulled his hand away from Steve's back to reach up to touch his face, his lips, his stubbly chin. “The thing I regret most is— is saying that you don't know what it's like to be a father. I know how much you love Grace. I know there's nothing you wouldn't do for her. And I know how lucky I am because I know that whatever happens to me or between us, you'll be always here for her.”

Steve smiled. It was that tired, strained smile that Danny didn't know whether he hated or loved seeing. “I will,” he said, “but—“

“But what?”

Steve frowned, tried for a more reassuring smile. “It's nothing.”

“Tell me,” Danny asked.

With a heavy sigh, the smile disappeared. “It's not up to me. If you're not here—“ Steve cut himself off. His hold around Danny tightened. “I'm _not_ her father.”

“Oh,” Danny heard himself say. He had never thought about this. Had never consider the consequences of him not being around. And Steve had a point. He wasn't Grace's father. He had no right to even talk to her if Rachel didn't agree to it and Danny wasn't around. Rachel could even have finally moved her to Las Vegas if Danny had gone to prison.

“It's okay,” Steve said. “You're still here.”

Danny tried to offer a smile, but all he could think about was how close he'd come to not being here. How, just a day ago, he'd felt like he couldn't be here. How there was a part of him even now, though muted and subdued, that made him feel that way.

He moved his palm to the side of Steve's face, cradled his scratchy jaw in his hand, stroking a thumb over his cheek. Danny realized that he needed to hold on to this. Make sure this wasn't just an illusion, a fleeting dream of peacefulness. He needed to make sure, for himself, for Steve and Grace, for their family, for Charlie, that he could be there for them. That he could, one day, forgive himself for what he'd done.

Craning his neck, Danny gently pulled Steve's head down, kissed his lips once and silently promised that, this time, he would fight.

  
  


» » » » »

  
  


“I think I gotta get up,” Danny said some time later. He had snuck a peek at Steve's wristwatch a few minutes ago only to find that it was almost eight a.m.

Steve grunted unhappily. “Why?”

Danny pushed his head up a little, bumping his nose against the underside of Steve's chin. “I have an appointment with Charlie's doctor at nine.”

Steve tensed. He pulled back a little to look at Danny. “For what?” he asked, brow creased in concern.

“They gotta do some tests, make sure I'm healthy enough to give the bone marrow,” Danny said and then remembered Patricia's promise to have all his questions answered by the doctor as well. “The doc is hopefully going to talk to me, too,” he added. “Explain how all this works and how— how exactly this transplant helps Charlie and how sure they are that it's going to work. I mean, I'm a half match and I keep thinking that a half match doesn't sound like it's a sure thing, that there's only a fifty percent chance that this is going to work, you know. I— I mean— Is this it for him, for Charlie? Is this his only shot? And what if—“

“Hey, hey,” Steve soothed, stroking one hand up Danny's back and to his head, pulling him deeper into his embrace. “It'll be okay. It's going to work, Charlie will be fine,” he promised.

Danny forced himself to inhale a deep, calming breath, to try and slow his suddenly pounding heartbeat. “What if my bone marrow doesn't help?” he asked.

Steve was silent for a moment. His hands and fingers drew small, soothing patterns on Danny's back, caressed the hair at his nape. Danny wished he could get lost in the soft touches for just a little while, forget about the disease that was threatening to kill his son. He wished he could simply be happy to have a son for just a little bit, without having those three letters looming dangerously over their heads.

“I don't know,” Steve said eventually, his voice quiet and heavy with helplessness. “I don't know anything about this disease. I don't know what I can do to help.”

“Do you wanna come with me, to the hospital?” Danny asked. “Doc can explain everything to both of us.”

Steve's hands stilled. “You sure?”

Danny pulled back a little, gently forced Steve to loosen his hold. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Steve, at the uncertainty in his eyes. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you there.”

Steve smiled at that, but only briefly. He looked at Danny seriously. “Is Charlie going to be there?”

Danny nodded. He had gotten a text message from Rachel yesterday, letting him know that she was going to come to the appointment as well so that Dr. Bellrose would only have to explain the further proceedings once. “Is that a problem?”

Steve shrugged a little. “I don't know,” he said thoughtfully. “He's— he's a sick little kid who has to go through all this scary stuff and— he's probably overwhelmed as it is, he doesn't need another stranger in his life right now.”

Smiling, Danny reached down to touch Steve's face, trace a finger over his lips. “You're not a stranger. You're his family, he just doesn't know it yet.”

“That's not what I meant,” Steve said, but there was a small upward twist to his lips now that Danny could feel underneath his fingertips.

“I know. But look at it this way, he— Charlie, he probably has new people in his life every other day. Doctors and nurses and other sick kids and their parents. People coming and going. And right now, I'm probably just one of them to him. But, one day, he'll realize that I'm not going anywhere. And I want you to be there, every step of the way, because I want Charlie to get to know me and— you're a part of that, of my life, of— of me. A big part.” Danny paused, brushed his fingers over Steve's face. “You're the reason I'm here. You made sure I could be here for Charlie.”

“I didn't know—” Steve started to protest. Danny cut him off with a kiss.

“Doesn't matter,” he said. Because it didn't matter that Steve hadn't known about Charlie or his disease at the time. What mattered was that Danny was here and that he could help his kid. And if the bone marrow transplant worked, then it wasn't just Danny's cells and the doctors who had saved his son's life, it was Steve, too. And for that, he deserved to at least get to know Charlie.

Danny didn't pull away far, only an inch or so. Enough to look Steve in the eye, if a bit cross-eyed. “I'm grateful, is what I'm saying— what I'm trying to say. And that's— that's regardless of how I feel about everything else. I'm grateful you made sure I'm here and that I can try and help my son. I'm very, very grateful. And I—” He stopped abruptly, swallowed thickly and then opened his mouth again to say the last few words sitting on the tip of his tongue. But all that came out was a breathy exhale.

He tipped his head back further and suddenly realized that the small smile was back, not just on Steve's lips this time, but right there, in his eyes, too.

“And I love you,” Danny said, the words suddenly tumbling from his mouth with familiar ease -- even though he hadn't allowed himself to say them in months.

The way Steve suddenly looked so utterly relieved and almost surprised took Danny's breath away. “I love you,” he repeated firmly, pressing his flat palm against the side of Steve's face.

It felt almost right the say those three words, almost like it was okay for him to say them to someone as indescribably wonderful as Steve.

  
  


— 2 months later —

  
  


“Danny, please,” Steve muttered, begged, hoarse and breathless. He panted, twitching and shivering all over.

“Shh,” Danny soothed, snaking an arm around his middle, trying to press himself even closer to his back. “It's okay, I'm right here.”

Steve whimpered, another shudder vibrated through his body. Danny tried to still him by holding on tighter yet. “I'm right here,” he repeated, hoping that maybe this time he'd manage to break through the nightmare that held Steve firmly in its relentless grip.

Nightmare.

It was easy to call it that. A nightmare, a dream, a figment of his unconscious imagination. Something beyond anyone's control.

Though this, Danny knew, was not just a nightmare. It was something somewhere in between a memory and a dream. Something dark, something heartbreaking. Something others had sown but he himself had nourished, allowed to grow. At its core, this was very real fear.

It had started, probably, on the day Doris had fabricated her own death. When she had abandoned her family. And it had continued with every person after that who had chosen to betray or leave Steve, too. His dad, Governor Jameson, Nick Taylor, Joe, Catherine –- Doris again.

And a little while ago, Danny had wanted to fix it all. Mend all the damage those people had caused with a simple, honest promise.

_You said you're not going anywhere and neither am I._

He had promised to stay, to be happy with Steve, someday. And Steve had trusted him and his promise.

And then Danny had singed his freedom away to the Colombian government. Not just on a whim, not without good reason. And Steve even said he understood. After he had accompanied Danny to sessions with the therapist Catherine had recommended, after Danny had fully understood himself and then managed to explain his guilt and what it had done to him. Steve had said he understood. And Danny believed him.

But understanding didn't change the fact that Danny had broken his promise. And now, as he was holding on to Steve, who was still plagued by nightmares of Danny leaving him, he couldn't help but feel like he had broken at least some of the trust between them, too.

He and Steve, they hadn't talked about this yet. It was the one thing that never got addressed, let a lone dealt with. Danny felt like he had made a lot of progress with everything else. The therapist had helped him understand and accept what he had done, had offered explanations for why he had reacted so violently to finding out his brother was dead and why finding out about Reyes' kids had sent him into this abyss of self-loathing. Danny had then started to work on forgiving himself for what he'd done. The information he had received from Catherine, knowing his actions had maybe altered Francisco and Hector's lives in a somewhat positive way, helped. On the therapist's recommendation, Danny had written letters to them, explaining himself to them, asking them for forgiveness. Francisco and Hector would never read them since there was no way to find out where the CIA had moved Reyes' family. But just writing to them had already helped a lot and Danny was hopeful that, someday, he would be able to make his peace with what he had done.

But it was not going to happen if he and Steve didn't work out this thing between them. Danny knew that signing the papers to waive extradition had hurt Steve, but for some reason he seemed to refuse to acknowledge that. Maybe he was afraid this would reverse all the progress they had made since that night two months ago. Maybe he was scared it would changes things between them again, and this time for good.

Danny was suddenly pulled back into the moment when Steve called his name. It sounded like a desperate plea.

“Shh, shh,” Danny hushed, as if it was enough to fix anything.

They couldn't go on like this.

Steve woke a few minutes later, quietly, without so much as a twitch of a muscle. But Danny still knew from the way some of the tension suddenly bled from his body.

He curled his fingers where they lay splayed over Steve's chest and stomach, just a little, to let him know he was there.

Steve took a few almost silent, gasping breaths. Slowly, the heaving of his chest ebbed away to a steady, even rhythm and his heart stopped pounding so ferociously against its cage of ribs.

Danny kissed Steve's nape with just a brush of lips. “You okay?” he asked carefully.

Steve sighed. One of his hands curled itself around Danny's wrist, holding on and asking not to let go at the same time. “Yeah, I'm good,” he said. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Danny ignored the unnecessary apology. “You wanna talk about it?” he asked instead.

When Steve didn't answer, Danny dropped his his forehead against the knobbly jut of bone at the back of his neck. “We gotta talk about this at some point. This isn't just going to go away.”

“Talk about what?” Steve simply asked in return, stubbornly feigning ignorance.

“About this. About what keeps haunting your dreams, what makes you break out in a cold sweat in your sleep.”

“I've always had nightmares,” Steve reasoned after breathing out another sigh. “And I'm not the only one.”

“Yeah, but what are yours about these days?” Danny asked.

He didn't expect an answer; Steve didn't offer one.

“We need to talk about that,” Danny insisted after a beat. “We need to talk about the fact that we lay here, in this bed—“ He paused and then pulled his hands from Steve's body, used his momentary confusion to tip him over to lie on his back and propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over him. “—like this,” Danny then added. “We lay in this bed just like this and I said to you that I'd always be here, right here. And then, a few months later, I signed a bunch of papers and the next morning, you woke up here alone.”

Steve just looked at him for a long moment, defiance sparkling in his eyes. He was refusing to even think about what Danny needed him to say out loud.

“I didn't sleep until I got you back,” he said eventually.

“But it's still keeping you awake now,” Danny pointed out gently. He reached up to stroke a thumb over Steve's creased brow.

“Danny,” Steve argued. “I know why you signed those papers. I know it had nothing to do with me, it was—“

“No, but that's the problem,” Danny cut in. “I didn't think about you, but I should have. I didn't respect the promise we made each other.”

“You were in a bad place. I understand why you felt like you had to do it. And that's enough for me.”

Danny sighed, wishing Steve was right. “In here,” he said, tapping a finger against Steve's temple softly. “Maybe.” He then moved his hand down, laid it on Steve's chest, over his heart. “But not in here.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asked helplessly.

Danny looked down to his hand. “Maybe acknowledge that I hurt you,” he suggested. “You talk about Grace and Charlie and how I left them—”

“You didn't—”

“Stop making excuses for me,” Danny interrupted, locking eyes with Steve again to make him understand that he needed to stop sugarcoating and making apologies what Danny had done. “Please. I signed the papers, I let them take me to prison. I left.” He paused, tried to swallow back the lump that had formed at the back of his throat. “I left you,” he added.

But Steve, for some reason, suddenly just smiled. He shook his head and reached up with one hand to cradled Danny's neck and jaw in his palm. “But I didn't let you,” he said, like it meant something, something important. But Danny just couldn't tell or figure out what.

“You didn't let me?” he echoed, still confused. He looked at Steve, searched his face for a clue, a hint as to what was going through his head. But all there was was this relaxed, serene smile. And Danny could help but smile back at him.

“I didn't let you,” Steve repeated, confirmed.

Danny still didn't understand.

“Look,” Steve said and sobered a little. “We're in this together,” he said seriously. “And sometimes— sometimes—“ He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words to express what he wanted to say.

But he didn't have to. Because suddenly something inside Danny's head just clicked. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense.

“Sometimes, you have to make me keep my promise,” Danny finished for him.

Steve nodded. “And that's okay. Because you'll have to do the same for me.”

And that was just it. Their lives were complicated and messy and they had already beed through so much. And there was no way things were going to slow down for them anytime soon. Not with their jobs and their pasts. And not with a teenager and a kid recovering from a bone marrow transplant and an ex-wife. And sometimes— sometimes they would have to rely on each other just to get through it all. And sometimes they would struggle and then they would have to remind each other of what was important.

“Together, huh?” Danny asked, trying not to give in to the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yup,” Steve confirmed.

Danny let the smile spread all over his face at the succinct, confident reply. He rolled his eyes and then gazed down to where Steve still lay underneath him and just looked at him for a long moment, took in every small detail of his face, got lost in his eyes. And only then he bent down and pressed a slow kiss to Steve's lips. “I love you,” he said as he pulled away.

Steve smiled again, skin crinkling around the eyes. He pulled Danny down, lifted his head to meet him halfway for a kiss of his own.

“I love you,” Steve then told him.

And Danny had to bite his lip as Steve spoke just to stop himself from interrupting him with another kiss. He loved hearing him say those three words but right now— right now all Danny wanted to do was to show Steve how much he loved him. So when Steve lowered his head again, sinking back into the pillow, Danny followed him down, chasing his mouth with his own lips. He kissed Steve, again and again. Small, gentle kisses, to his mouth, his jaw, his cheek. Then Danny moved lower, kissed his collarbone and his chest, close to where his own hand still rested over Steve's heart.

Steve arms curled themselves around Danny, his fingertips started stroking gently, tingling on Danny's skin.

And Danny wanted to just continue kissing, explore the rest of Steve's body with his mouth, too. But there was still this nagging thought at the back of his mind, the reason why they were awake in the middle of the night in the first place. So instead he dropped his head to Steve's chest and closed his eyes with a sigh.

“What about the nightmares?” he asked after a beat. “I mean, there has to be—”

“I've had nightmares about losing you for years, Danny,” Steve said in a neutral voice, as if it wasn't anything important, no big deal, part of his everyday life. “This is nothing new.”

“You never said anything,” Danny said quietly. He shifted his head, looked up to meet Steve's gaze, wondering what other things he still kept locked inside his head. “Sometimes talking about things helps, you know,” he added, trying to keep his tone conversational to make sure Steve understood there was no pressure to open up about this or anything else.

“Really?” Steve asked teasingly. “Is that so?”

Danny pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at him. “Yes,” he insisted seriously. “You can tell me everything.”

Steve sighed, his expression softened. “Okay,” he acquiesced after a beat. He lifted a hand and brushed the hair over Danny's left ear back with tender fingers. “Noted.”

“Good,” Danny accepted.

“For future reference,” Steve added, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Danny couldn't help but snort at the nonexistent subtlety. He hid his grin by pressing his mouth to Steve's chest, then dropped a kiss there before he craned his neck, stretching up and pushing himself higher with his feet. Lifting his head off the pillow, Steve met him for another kiss and this time, Danny opened his mouth to him, allowed him to deepen the kiss. Hands roamed all over his body, touching, stroking, and Danny let his hands do the same.

A small, reasonable voice at the back of his mind tried to remind him that it was still the middle of the night and that they had to get up early in the morning for work. But soon enough, that voice was drowned out by the sounds of their mingling, panting breaths and nothing mattered but the feel of Steve's body underneath his own and the reverent, tender touches of his hands and lips, the love in every kiss, every sound and every breath.

  
  


**The End**

 


End file.
